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g/'OUR 

NATIONAL 
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CA.BROWNE 


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FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM  TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


6"^^  7 


^i 


"YANKEE    DOODLE  " 
From  the  painting  by  A.  M.  Willard 


THE  STORY  OF  OUR 
NATIONAL  BALLADS 


BY 

C.  A.  BROWNE 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYKIGHT.    1919.    BT 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 


Second  Thousand 


TO 

G.  T.  B.  AND  G.  R.  E. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/storynationOObrow 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Yankee  Doodle i 

Hail  Columbia 29 

The  Star-Spangled  Banner 47 

America 69 

Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean 87 

Dixie 97 

Maryland,  My  Maryland 109 

The  Battle  Cry  OF  Freedom 115 

John  Brown's  Body 127 

Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic 147 

We  Are  Coming 159 

Marching  Through  Georgia      ......   177 

Occasional  Songs 197 

Spanish  War  Songs 205 

Songs  of  the  Great  War — British 213 

Songs  of  the  Great  War — American  ....  22-^ 


YANKEE  DOODLE 


YANKEE  DOODLE 

Fath'r  and  I  went  down  to  camp, 
Along    with    Captain    Good'in, 

And  there  we  saw  the  men  and  boys 
As  thick  as  hasty  puddin'. 

CHORUS 

Yankee  Doodle  keep  it  up, 

Yankee  Doodle  dandy, 
Mind   the    music   and   the    step, 

And  with  the  girls  be  handy. 

And  there  we  see  a  thousand  men, 
As    rich    as    Squire    David; 

And  what  they  wasted  ev'ry  day, 
I  wish  it  could  be  saved. 

And  there  was  Captain  Washington 

Upon   a    slapping   stallion, 
A  giving  orders   to   his   men; 

I  guess  there  was  a  miUion. 

And  then  the  feathers  on  his  hat. 
They  looked  so  very  fine,  ah! 

I  wanted  peskily  to  get 
To  give  to  my  Jemima. 

And  there  I  see  a  swamping  gun, 

Large  as  a  log  of  maple. 
Upon  a  mighty  little  cart; 

A  load  for  father's  cattle. 

And  every  time  they  fired  it  off, 
It  took  a  horn  of  powder ; 

It  made  a  noise  like  father's  gun, 
Only  a  nation  louder. 

And  there  I  see  a  little  keg. 
Its  head  all  made  of  leather, 

They  knocked  upon't  with  little  sticks, 
To  call  the  folks  together. 

And  Cap'n  Davis  had  a  gun, 

He  kind  o'  clapt  his   hand  on't 

And  stuck  a  crooked  stabbing-iron 
Upon  the  little  end  on't. 

The  troopers,  too,  would  gallop  up 
And  fire  right  in  our  faces : 

It  scared  me  almost  half  to  death 
To  see  them  run  such  races. 

It  scared  me  so  I  hooked  it  off, 
Nor  stopped,  as  I  remember. 

Nor  turned  about  till  I  got  home. 
Locked  up  in  mother's  chamber. 


YANKEE  DOODLE 

Little  by  little,  Music  has  grown  to  be  a  vital 
factor  in  army  life;  a  military  necessity  to  sol- 
diers on  the  march.  Their  leaders  have  discov- 
ered that  a  singing  army  is  a  cheerful  army ;  and 
a  cheerful  army  is  invincible.  In  an  official  bul- 
letin, a  commanding  officer  at  one  of  the  great 
camps  has  this  to  say:  "While  marching,  noth- 
ing will  so  effectively  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the 
men,  and  prevent  them  from  straggling,  as  the 
singing  of  marching  songs.  The  soldier's  mind 
is  thus  stimulated;  and  instead  of  thinking  of 
the  weight  of  his  equipment,  or  his  physical  wear- 
iness, he  develops  a  dogged  and  cheerful  deter- 
mination." It  has  become  apparent  to  those  in 
authority  that  "there  is  nothing  in  the  world, 
not  even  letters  from  home,  that  will  raise  the 
soldiers'  spirits  like  a  good,  catchy  marching 
tune." 

Singularly  enough,  no  one  of  the  great  Na- 
tional Hymns  has  been  written  by  a  great  poet. 
And  but  rarely  has  a  trained  musician  created 
the  music  to  a  National  Song. 

3 


4  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

No  man  can  say  what  will  give  vogue  to  a  pop- 
ular song;  for  it  is  impossible  to  foretell  what 
may  appeal  to  the  fickle  fancy  of  the  public. 
This  renders  the  ordinary  popular  songs  as  uncer- 
tain as  anything  in  life ;  and  when  you  add  to  this, 
the  fact  that  National  Songs  are  necessarily  the 
result  of  national  storm  and  stress,  it  follows  in- 
evitably that  a  National  Song  is  one  of  those 
things  which  can  neither  be  planned  ahead,  nor 
made  to  order. 

In  the  beginning,  when  our  plucky  Thirteen 
Colonies  decided  to  break  away  from  the  Mother 
Country,  and  start  out  on  life  as  a  separate  Na- 
tion, we  had  no  Song, — and  no  Flag, — that  we 
could  call  our  own.  Yet,  at  this  date,  to  tell  the 
Story  of  Our  National  Songs,  is  to  put  the  his- 
tory of  our  country  in  a  nutshell.  For  every 
period  of  that  history  has  brought  its  own  individ- 
ual music  with  it;  consequently,  the  annals  of 
America  are  embodied  in  her  patriotic  ballads,  to 
a  far  greater  degree  than  those  of  any  other  land 
seem  to  be. 

During  the  Revolution,  we  acquired  "Yankee 
Doodle."  In  fact,  it  is  our  one  song  legacy  from 
the  Revolutionary  War ;  and  while  it  may  not  be 
a  treasure  of  the  highest  value,  it  absolutely  be- 
longs to  us, — is  public  property,  and  has  its  pe- 


YANKEE  DOODLE  5 

culiar  place.  For  its  quaint,  incisive  character 
redeems  it  from  vulgarity;  and  its  historic  asso- 
ciations are  woven  and  interwoven  with  the  estab- 
lishment of  American  Independence. 

Although  it  was  known,  to  some  extent,  on  this 
side  of  the  water,  since  the  old  days  of  the  French 
and  Indian  War,  a  special  interest  attaches  to 
the  fact  that  it  began,  and  it  ended,  the  Great 
Drama  of  the  American  Revolution;  a  drama 
which  opened  in  New  England, — culminated  in 
New  York, — and  closed  in  Virginia.  These 
three  colonies  were,  each  in  turn,  the  chief  seat  of 
war.  George  William  Curtis  exclaims,  "Paul 
Revere's  lantern  shone  through  the  valley  of  the 
Hudson,  and  flashed  along  the  cliffs  of  the  Blue 
Ridge!" 

Strange  to  say,  ''Yankee  Doodle"  changed 
sides  during  the  conflict.  From  being  a  British 
tune  at  the  beginning  of  the  struggle,  it  emerged 
as  a  severely  American  melody,  at  the  close.  The 
earlier  history  of  the  air  is  shrouded  in  mystery ; 
many  countries  having  laid  claim  to  all,  or  to 
fragments  of  it.  The  tune  of  ''Yankee  Doodle," 
like  the  story  of  the  flood,  appears  to  flourish  in 
the  myths  of  every  nation.  The  word  "Yankee" 
is  probably  an  Indian  corruption  of  the  word 
English;  though  the  term  is  still  a  bone  of  con- 


6  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

tention  among  the  etymologists.  But  they  agree 
that  ''Doodle"  means  a  trifling,  half-witted  fel- 
low. During  Revolutionary  times,  the  word 
''Yankee"  was  used  as  an  especially  insulting 
term.  During  the  Boston  Massacre,  the  British 
commanding  officer  took  great  pains  to  shout  it 
at  the  crowd  of  citizens, — this  and  various  other 
choice  epithets.  And  the  song  itself  was  dis- 
tinctly against  the  Americans,  at  first. 

While  we  were  still  in  the  colonial  times,  dur- 
ing the  French  and  Indian  war,  General  Amherst 
had  under  his  command  an  army  composed  of 
both  regular,  that  is  to  say,  English,  and  provin- 
cial troops.  And  during  the  summer  of  1755, 
this  conglomerate  army  lay  encamped  upon  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson,  a  little  south  of  the 
city  of  Albany, — which  was  also  semi-rural,  then. 

In  the  early  part  of  June,  company  after  com- 
pany of  the  eastern  troops  (militia)  began  to  pour 
in;  and  such  a  motley  assemblage  of  men  never 
before  had  thronged  together,  on  such  an  occa- 
sion; according  to  an  old  letter  written  at  that 
time.  The  writer  further  relates,  that  "it  would 
have  relaxed  the  gravity  of  an  anchorite,  to  have 
seen  these  descendants  of  the  Puritans,  making 
their  way  through  the  streets  of  our  ancient  city, 
to  take  their  station  at  the  left  of  the  British 


YANKEE  DOODLE  7 

army."  "Quaint  and  ludicrous,"  comments  an- 
other letter-writer,  "was  the  appearance  of  these 
raw  American  volunteers,  as  they  came  into 
camp;  some  in  black  suits,  some  in  blue,  and  some 
in  gray.  Some  of  them  had  long  coats,  some 
short  ones,  and  some  had  no  coats  at  all.  Some 
had  long  hair,  some  short;  and  some  wore  enor- 
mous wigs.  Their  march,  their  great  variety  of 
accoutrements,  and  the  whole  arrangement  of 
their  troops,  furnished  altogether  a  good  deal  of 
sport  for  the  regular  British  troops.'' 

Still  another  account,  in  the  same  strain,  ad- 
mits that  the  fantastic  appearance  of  the  colonial 
contingent,  with  their  variegated,  ill-fitting  and 
incomplete  uniforms,  was  a  continual  butt  for  the 
broad  humor  of  the  army.  Among  these  make- 
games,  who  were  with  the  forces  of  General  Am- 
herst, when  the  New  England  troops  under  Gov- 
ernor Shirley  came  in,  there  was  a  certain  regi- 
mental surgeon,  Dr.  Richard  Shuckburg,  who,  in 
a  spirit  of  sarcasm,  played  what  he  considered  a 
master-good  joke  on  the  ragged,  tattered  Conti- 
nentals, by  palming  off  on  them  the  "Nankee 
Doodle"  tune,  of  Cromwell's  time,  as  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  airs  of  martial  music.  This  old 
English  melody  was  probably  a  country  dance; 
but  Dr.  Shuckburg  set  to  it  the  words  of  an  ab- 


8  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

surd  song  which  he  called  'The  Yankee's  Return 
to  Camp."     It  begins, 

"Father  and  I  went  down  to  camp, 

Along  with  Captain  Gooding. 
There  we  see  the  men  and  boys, 

As  thick  as  hasty  pudding." 

Quite  unsuspecting,  the  guileless,  awkward 
Continentals  swallowed  the  whole  thing,  hook, 
bait  and  line.  The  joke  spread  like  wildfire;  far 
beyond  the  scoffer's  fondest  hopes.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  days,  nothing  was  heard  in  the  provincial 
camp  but  ''Yankee  Doodle."  The  British  corps 
were  highly  entertained ;  never  dreaming  that  the 
sport  was  destined  to  prove  an  unwelcome  boom- 
erang, twenty  years  later,  when  some  of  those 
same  ridiculed  militiamen  marched  to  victory  at 
Lexington,  to  the  strains  of  this  much  laughed-at 
tune,  which  had  developed  into  the  battle  song  of 
the  New  Republic.  The  perpetrator  of  the  satire 
did  not  live  to  witness  that  part  of  the  game ;  as  he 
died  at  Schenectady,  in  1773. 

Thomas  Jefferson  often  said  that  Washington 
was  the  greatest  horseman  of  his  time.  It  trans- 
pires, that  on  June  30,  1775,  when  General  Wash- 
ington left  Virginia,  to  assume  command  of  the 
Continental  Armies,  then  encamped  at  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  he  took  with  him,  five  horses  of  his 


YANKEE  DOODLE  9 

own  breeding;  his  favorite  being  a  magnificent 
bay,  sixteen  hands  high.  On  his  first  appearance 
at  Cambridge,  mounted  on  this  splendid  animal, 
he  enthused  and  charmed  not  only  the  Army,  but 
also  the  mixed  throng  of  revolutionary  patriots 
gathered  there,  to  greet  for  the  first  time,  the  hero 
of  the  epoch.  This  bay  was  probably  the  ''slap- 
ping stallion"  mentioned  in  the  third  stanza  of 
''Yankee  Doodle" ;  the  words  of  which  have  been 
described  as  little  more  than  meaningless  dog- 
gerel, little  known  now. 

Boston,  today,  is  considered  the  most  conserva- 
tive city,  politically  speaking,  in  the  entire  United 
States;  but  during  the  Revolutionary  days,  she 
was  the  leader  of  her  sister  towns.  It  was  1822 
before  Boston  Town  developed  into  a  city.  At 
the  close  of  the  Revolution,  the  population  of  the 
whole  United  States  did  not  number  quite  four 
millions.  There  were  at  that  time  but  six  cities, 
so-called;  and  in  those  six  cities  there  dwelt  130,- 
000  persons.  When  Benjamin  Franklin  trav- 
elled by  coach,  from  Philadelphia  to  New  York, 
the  journey  took  four  days,  and  the  author  of 
"Poor  Richard's  Almanac"  knitted  stockings  to 
while  away  the  time.  What  Boston  lacked  in 
size,  she  more  than  made  up  in  zeal.  Strong  in 
the  courage  of  her  convictions,  she  tolled  her 


10  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

church-bells,  and  half-masted  her  flags,  when  the 
news  of  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  reached 
America.  The  Mother  Country  w^as  convinced 
that  Boston  would  bear  watching;  in  consequence, 
beginning  with  1768,  when  the  old  State  House 
was  occupied  by  a  Royalist  regiment,  the  British 
troops  were  encamped  at  Boston,  during  seven- 
teen long,  weary  months;  among  a  population  to 
whom  they  were  thoroughly  odious.  Each  suc- 
ceeding day  gave  rise  to  new  occurrences  which 
augmented  the  mutual  animosity,  and  it  is  re- 
markable that  the  grave  crisis  was  so  long  de- 
layed. 

We  are  indebted  to  old  letters  and  diaries  for 
the  most  accurate  knowledge  obtainable,  of  the 
interior  life  of  Boston,  at  this  juncture.  John 
Andrew^s,  a  lively  merchant,  relates  that  it  was 
customary  for  the  soldiers  to  fire  at  a  target  fixed 
in  a  stream,  at  the  bottom  of  the  now  historic 
Boston  Common.  And  he  goes  on  to  say,  "A  few 
days  ago,  a  countryman  stood  by,  and  laughed 
very  heartily,  at  a  whole  regiment's  firing,  and 
not  one  being  able  to  hit  the  mark.  The  officer, 
nettled  by  his  mirth,  invited  him  to  try  his  hand. 
He  accordingly  loaded,  and  asked  the  officer 
where  he  w^as  to  fire.  According  to  direction,  he 
pulled  the  trigger,  and  drove  the  ball  as  ordered, 


YANKEE  DOODLE  ii 

To  the  right;  To  the  left,'  and  the  third  time, 
'In  the  center.'  The  officers  stared,  as  well  as  the 
soldiers.  'Why,'  said  the  countryman,  'I've  got  a 
boy,  at  home,  that  will  toss  up  an  apple,  and  shoot 
aout  all  the  seeds  as  it's  comin'  daown.'  " 

This  story  tallies  with  many  other  accounts 
given  of  the  marvelous  skill  of  the  colonists. 
Bred  as  they  were,  to  all  manner  of  hardships  and 
dangers,  from  infancy,  this  backwoods  experience 
had  made  them  very  ready  with  their  fowling- 
pieces  and  matchlocks.  Being  thus  ridiculed,  and 
made  to  feel  they  had  no  business  in  Boston,  was 
not  at  all  to  the  taste  of  the  royal  troops.  So  the 
soldiers  took  revenge  in  any  way  that  lay  at  their 
disposal ;  and  made  it  a  point  to  annoy  the  citizens, 
to  whom  their  very  presence  was  an  insult.  Well 
knowing  the  decorous  piety  of  many  of  the  Bos- 
tonians,  these  soldiers  proceeded  to  race  horses 
on  the  Common,  of  a  Sabbath  Day;  and  to  play 
"Yankee  Doodle,"  just  outside  the  church  doors, 
during  the  divine  service. 

The  word  ''Yankee"  always  stood  for  impu- 
dence ;  and  from  the  beginning  of  the  trouble,  the 
British  began  to  sing  "Yankee  Doodle,"  in  mock- 
ery of  the  Americans.  As  early  as  1768,  it  was 
played  also,  aboard  the  British  ships,  in  Boston 
Harbor. 


12  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Such  like  doings  were  infinitely  tantalizing  to 
the  already  over-tried  populace;  for  it  was  an 
intensely  self-respecting,  God-fearing  community. 
Breach  of  the  Sabbath  was  regarded  as  a  heinous 
offence;  and  ''prophane  cursing  and  swairing" 
were  included  among  the  serious  crimes;  as  the 
court  records  show. 

In  those  vexatious  days,  it  was  a  British  cus- 
tom to  drum  culprits  out  of  camp,  to  the  tune  of 
''Yankee  Doodle."  A  little  later  on,  we  find  their 
soldiers  making  ribald  verses  to  the  melody,  and 
singing— 

**Yankee  Doodle  came  to  town, 

For  to  buy  a  firelock ; 
We  will  tar  and  feather  him, 

And  so  we  will  John  Hancock." 

John  Hancock,  after  graduating  from  Har- 
vard, had  entered  the  counting-house  of  an 
uncle;  and  upon  the  death  of  his  relative,  he  re- 
ceived a  large  fortune.  Standing  thus,  almost 
at  the  head  of  the  merchants  of  Boston,  his 
wealth,  culture,  and  good  looks  made  him  an  ob- 
ject of  flattery.  Upon  a  recent  visit  to  England, 
he  had  been  strongly  urged  to  join  the  royal  party ; 
but  the  counsels  of  Samuel  Adams  had  a  still 
more  powerful  effect.  Thanks  to  his  influence, 
the  handsome  young  merchant  could  say,  regard- 


YANKEE  DOODLE  13 

less  of  his  princely  residence,  and  all  else,  ''Burn 
Boston,  and  make  John  Hancock  a  beggar,  if  the 
public  good  requires  it.'' 

It  was  not  long  after  this,  that  by  a  strange  de- 
cree of  fate,  the  whereabouts  of  these  two  firm 
friends  chanced  to  be  responsible  for  that  first 
brush  of  hostilities  which  we  know  as  the  Battle 
of  Lexington.  After  the  Boston  Massacre, 
which  occurred  in  front  of  the  old  State  House, 
on  March  5,  1770,  things  went  from  bad  to 
worse.  The  Provincial  Congress,  which  met  at 
Cambridge,  February  i,  1775,  proceeded  to  or- 
ganize the  militia,  and  to  appoint  general  ofiicers. 
The  Minute  Men  were  picked  men  from  the  mi- 
litia ;  set  apart,  and  pledged  to  assemble  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  In  other  words,  ''The  Minute 
Man  of  the  Revolution  was  the  husband  and  fa- 
ther, who  left  the  plow  in  the  furrow,  the  ham- 
mer on  the  bench ;  and  kissing  wife  and  children, 
marched  away  to  die,  or  to  be  free.  He  was  the 
old,  the  middle-aged,  and  the  young.'' 

The  elder  citizens  had  been  all  too  familiar 
with  the  war-cry  of  the  early  days ;  and  the  fire- 
side tales  were  those  of  personal  sufferings  in  the 
Indian  troubles,  and  French  wars.  No  fairy 
stories  found  listeners  in  these  homes.  The  pine 
torch  was  lighted,  a-many  a  time,  so  that  the 


14         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

little  hearers  might  see  for  themselves  such  en- 
tries as  this,  in  the  family  record  of  the  well- 
worn  Bible:  ''Killed  at  Crown  Point";  ''Died  at 
Champlain";  "Killed  by  Indians  at  Fort  George." 

From  the  times  of  Captain  John  Smith  and 
Captain  Miles  Standish,  there  had  been  handed 
down  that  practical  training  in  arms,  and  light- 
ning preparation  against  surprise  and  attack, 
transmitted  from  the  days  when  homes  were  but 
clearings  in  the  forest;  and  music,  the  bay  of  the 
roaming  beasts ;  and  safety,  the  mercy  of  the  In- 
dian's knife. 

One-fifth  of  all  the  able-bodied  men  of  Massa- 
chusetts had  been  in  the  field,  during  the  French 
and  Indian  War.  Some  of  them,  no  doubt  among 
the  soldiers  who  inspired  Dr.  Shuckburg's  verses 
of  "Yankee  Doodle," — small  credit  to  him.  Un- 
der the  instructions  of  this  Provincial  Congress 
of  '75,  every  village  green  in  Massachusetts  be- 
came the  scene  of  active  drill;  so  it  is  far  from 
true  that  the  men  who  first  repulsed  the  British 
regulars  in  1775  were  simply  a  band  of  farmers, 
who  were  entirely  unused  to  fighting. 

George  Washington  had  received  his  early  mil- 
itary training  in  the  Virginia  militia.  He  was 
only  nineteen  years  of  age  when  he  was  made  an 
adjutant-general,  and  placed  over  one  of  the  four 


YANKEE  DOODLE  15 

divisions  into  which  the  Governor  had  appor- 
tioned them.  He  was  a  tried  and  capable  soldier, 
in  the  old  French  war  of  1755,  fighting  on  the 
side  of  England.  In  July  of  1775,  among  the 
reinforcements  of  Washington's  army  at  Cam- 
bridge, those  coming  from  his  native  state  in- 
cluded the  famous  Daniel  Morgan;  with  his 
sturdy  band  of  sharpshooters.  It  is  said  of  these 
men,  that  each  one,  while  marching  at  double- 
quick,  was  able  to  cleave  with  his  rifle  ball,  a 
squirrel,  at  a  distance  of  three  hundred  yards. 
Three  hundred  yards  is  nine  hundred  feet; 
double-quick  means  that  120  paces  have  to  be 
crowded  into  a  minute;  moreover,  a  ^^pace''  in 
''double-quick"  means  36  inches,  instead  of  the 
usual  30-inch  stride.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that  a 
squirrel  is  a  lively  proposition  at  any  time.  With 
such  marksmen  as  this,  it  is  small  wonder  that  a 
^reat  number  of  the  British  officers  were  picked 
off,  like  so  many  partridges,  during  the  first  Revo- 
lutionary battles.  Washington's  "Boys  of  '75," 
were  like  their  sires,  perhaps  a  motley  crowd, — 
clad,  as  they  were,  in  every  known  variety  of 
country  attire;  but  they  were  remarkably  fine 
shots;  that  was  the  vital  point. 

It  has  been  claimed  by  some,  that  the  Father  of 
his  Country  was  not  a  great  soldier.     In  spite 


i6         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

of  this  disability,  he  managed  to  create  an  army 
out  of  the  roughest  materials;  he  outgeneraled 
all  that  Britain  was  able  to  send  against  him ;  and 
in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  distress,  he  organized 
victory.  To  put  the  case  in  a  nutshell,  ''He 
made  an  empty  bag  stand  upright,"  which  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  says,  ''is  hard."  For  even  the 
elements  of  subordination  had  scarcely  been  in- 
troduced; as  all,  to  a  great  extent,  had  been  so- 
cially equal  at  home ;  and  the  distinctions  of  rank 
had  yet  to  be  established. 

An  observer  tells  with  astonishment,  that  these 
men  appeared  unacquainted  with  the  idea  of  fear ; 
as  he  describes  it,  "With  their  rifles  in  their 
hands,  they  assumed  a  kind  of  omnipotence  over 
their  enemies." 

As  an  illustration  of  the  character  and  con- 
dition of  this  army-in-the-making,  a  visitor  to  the 
camp  repeats  a  conversation  he  overheard  be- 
tween a  captain  of  the  militia,  and  one  of  his  pri- 
vates. 

"Bill,"  said  the  captain,  "go  and  bring  a  pail 
of  water  for  the  mess." 

"I  sha'n't,"  was  the  reply  of  Bill.  "It's  your 
turn  now.  Captain;  I  got  the  last." 

Yet  the  same  visitor,  who  was  charged  with 
the  delivery  of  a  letter  to  the  Commander-in- 


YANKEE  DOODLE  17 

chief,  in  person,  speaks  with  sincere  emotion,  of 
the  commanding  presence,  the  majestic  mien,  of 
General  Washington. 

Taken  all  in  all,  it  was  an  army  animated  with 
zeal  and  patriotism;  even  though  it  seemed,  at 
first,  but  a  throng  of  brave,  enthusiastic,  undisci- 
plined country  lads ;  with  the  officers,  in  general, 
quite  as  ignorant  of  military  life,  as  were  the 
troops;  with  the  exception  of  a  few  elderly  men, 
who  had  seen  active  service  under  Lord  Amherst. 
Notwithstanding,  when  the  Battle  of  Lexington 
occurred,  the  colonies  with  their  minute-men,  and 
their  trained  bands  (of  militia),  were  as  well- 
equipped  for  war  as  the  poor  dependencies  of  a 
powerful  nation  could  reasonably  expect  to  be. 

The  Battle  of  Lexington  was  rather  an  acci- 
dental event.  The  patriots  had  been  quietly  col- 
lecting various  stores,  arms,  and  ammunition,  and 
depositing  them  at  Concord.  It  happened,  that 
toward  the  end  of  the  winter  of  1 774-1 775,  Gen- 
eral Gage  had  received  peremptory  orders  to  ar- 
rest Samuel  Adams,  "and  his  ready  and  willing 
tool,''  that  ''terrible  desperado,'*  John  Hancock, 
and  send  them  at  once  to  England,  to  be  tried 
for  treason.  A  London  newspaper  of  that  period 
comments  gaily,  that  "in  all  probability.  Temple 
Bar  will  soon  be  decorated  with  some  of  the  pa- 


i8         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

triotic  noddles  of  the  Boston  Saints."     Among 
other  effusions,  there  was  a  little  verse  which  read 

*'As  for  their  king, — that  John  Hancock, 
And  Adams ;  if  their  taken. 
Their  heads,  for  signs,  shall  hang  up  high, 
Upon  the  hill  called  Beacon." 

The  Provincial  Congress,  which  met  at  Con- 
cord, had  adjourned  on  the  15th  of  April.  But 
Adams  and  Hancock  stayed  for  a  few  days  at 
Lexington,  about  eleven  miles  from  Boston,  with 
a  mutual  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jonas  Clark,  who 
lived  at  that  place.  In  those  early  days,  the 
Parson  was  the  Person  of  the  town ;  the  words  of 
the  preacher  were  esteemed  as  the  voice  of  the 
Lord.  Much  of  the  spirit  of  resistance  to  British 
oppression  was  due  to  the  earnestness  of  these 
clergymen,  and  to  the  moral  power  of  their  fear- 
less utterances.  The  parsonage  was  naturally 
the  center  of  influence.  In  many  instances,  their 
preacher  joined  the  ranks  of  the  minute-men,  and 
shouldered  a  musket. 

It  was  natural  that  the  distinguished  guests, 
John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  should  have 
turned  their  footsteps  toward  the  Lexington  par- 
sonage, fully  aware  of  their  danger,  though  they 
were.  For  Hancock,  there  was  the  triple  at- 
traction of   friendship,  kinship   and  courtship. 


YANKEE  DOODLE  19 

Mrs.  Clark  was  own  cousin  to  the  opulent  young 
merchant;  and,  visiting  her  at  the  time,  was  the 
lovely  Dorothy  Quincy,  John  Hancock's  bride-to- 
be. 

'^Beneath  Old  Roof  trees"  (Abram  English 
Brown),  emphasizes  the  fact  that  the  celebrated 
midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere  was  not  the  first 
one  taken  by  that  sturdy  patriot  in  the  same  be- 
half. On  the  Sunday  preceding,  April  i6th,  he 
had  ridden  out  to  Lexington,  with  an  important 
message  from  Dr.  Warren,  to  the  noted  guests 
at  the  parsonage.  Having  delivered  his  message, 
he  had  returned  in  the  afternoon;  and  before 
crossing  the  river  from  Charleston,  he  made  the 
famous  arrangement  with  Colonel  Conant,  for 
hanging  the  lanterns; 

"One  if  by  land,  two  if  by  sea." 

As  it  seemed  more  convenient  to  seize  Adams 
and  Hancock  at  a  little  post-village,  than  in  Bos- 
ton, Gage,  planning  to  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone,  dispatched  a  force  of  eight  hundred  troops, 
on  the  night  of  the  i8th,  under  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Smith,  with  orders  to  march  first  to  Lex- 
ington,— arrest  the  patriot  leaders, — then  proceed 
to  Concord,  and  either  capture  or  destroy  the  mili- 
tary supplies  which  we  have  spoken  of  above,  as 
being  stored  there. 


20         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

That  night,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  British  troops 
quietly  crossed  the  Charles  River,  and  began  that 
eventful  march  which  precipitated  the  Revolution- 
ary War.  The  greatest  possible  secrecy  was  ob- 
served. They  even  took  the  precaution  to  go  by 
the  difficult  and  unfrequented  route  that  led 
through  the  marshes  of  East  Cambridge.  The 
bright  moonlight  night  enabled  every  man  to  has- 
ten his  movements,  and  stringent  orders  had  been 
given,  that  no  person  whatsoever  should  be  al- 
lowed to  leave  Boston,  that  night. 

Fortunately,  the  patriots  of  Boston  were  on  the 
alert;  General  Warren  surmised  the  mischief 
afoot;  and  he,  just  as  unobtrusively,  sent  out  Paul 
Revere,  by  way  of  Charleston,  and  William 
Dawes,  by  way  of  Roxbury,  to  give  the  alarm, 
all  along  the  route. 

Later  on,  when  Lord  Percy's  troops  marched 
out  of  Boston,  to  the  relief  of  their  British  com- 
rades at  Lexington,  his  soldiers  kept  step  to  the 
merry,  twinkling  strains  of  "Yankee  Doodle." 

And  thus  was  played  the  Overture  to  the  Great 
Drama  of  the  American  Revolution.  For  a  long 
time,  the  melody  was  known  as  'The  Lexington 
March."  In  view  of  their  success,  however,  the 
Americans  straightway  appropriated  the  tune; 
and    throughout    the    remainder    of    the    war, 


YANKEE  DOODLE  21 

"Yankee  Doodle"  was  openly  accepted  as  their 
own. 

The  Minute  Men  at  Lexington  had  no  uni- 
forms. And  the  only  flag  now  in  existence  that 
waved  over  "the  embattled  farmers"  on  that 
bright  spring  day,  was  the  ancient  standard  of 
the  Massachusetts  Militia;  which  is  sacredly 
guarded  by  the  Bedford  Free  Library  Corpora- 
tion, as  an  invaluable  memento. 

In  speaking  afterward,  of  the  Battle  of  Lex- 
ington, Lord  Percy  himself  conceded  that  he 
never  saw  anything  equal  to  the  intrepidity  of 
the  New  England  Minute  Men.  Even  more 
pointed,  if  less  polished  was  the  remark  made  by 
one  of  his  soldiers,  who  declared,  "They  fought 
like  bears;  I'd  as  soon  storm  hell,  as  fight  them 
again." 

In  his  "Travels  through  the  Interior  Parts  of 
America,"  another  British  officer.  Lieutenant  An- 
burey,  has  given  a  frank  narrative  of  the  experi- 
ences through  which  his  army  passed,  while  mak- 
ing their  way  across  the  state  of  Massachusetts, 
after  the  defeat  at  Saratoga.  He  admits  that  the 
British  soldiery  at  Boston  had  used  the  word 
"Yankee"  as  a  term  of  reproach;  but  that  after 
the  affair  at  Bunker  Hill,  the  Americans  gloried 
in  it.     "And  now,"  he  continues,  "  'Yankee  Doo- 


22  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

die'  is  their  pean,  a  favorite  of  favorites, — 
played  in  their  army,  and  esteemed  as  warlike  as 
the  'Grenadier's  Alarch/  It  is  the  lover's  spell, 
— the  nurse's  lullaby."  He  also  adds  ruefully, 
''After  our  rapid  successes,  we  held  the  Yankees 
in  great  contempt.  So  it  was  not  a  little  morti- 
fying to  hear  them  play  this  tune,  of  all  others, 
when  their  army  marched  down  to  our  surren- 
der." 

The  words  of  the  tune  of  "Yankee  Doodle"  are 
seldom  heard  of  late;  but  as  one  of  the  stanzas 
well  describes  the  music, — 

It  suits  for  feasts,  it  suits  for  fun; 
And  just  as  well  for  fighting." 

In  the  course  of  time,  this  tune  served  as  the 
postlude,  even  as  it  had  played  the  part  of  the 
musical  prelude,  to  the  struggle  for  Independence. 
When  Lord  Cornwallis  was  about  to  surrender,  at 
Yorktown,  in  1781,  a  rather  peculiar  matter,  of 
the  music  to  be  used,  came  up  for  discussion.  The 
articles  of  capitulation  did  not  include  a  single 
degrading  condition;  for  the  Americans  had  been 
unusually  lenient  in  many  of  the  details  of  the 
surrender.  But  on  one  little  point  of  etiquette, 
they  were  firm,  not  to  say  inflexible.  The  British 
soldiery  had  always  cherished,  as  their  natural 


YANKEE  DOODLE  23 

right,  the  exclusive  privilege  of  playing  the  tunes 
of  the  enemy,  whenever  they  saw  fit  to  do  so. 
But  they  had  no  use  for  a  rule  that  worked  both 
ways;  so  it  was  customary  for  them  to  demand, 
at  the  surrender  of  an  enemy,  that  the  bands 
which  belonged  to  the  captives,  should  be  com- 
pelled to  play  their  own  martial  music ; — thus  pit- 
ilessly rubbing  salt  into  the  wounded  pride  of  the 
conquered,  by  the  humiliating,  and  compulsory 
dragging  of  their  melodies  in  the  dust. 

Accordingly,  in  1780,  at  the  surrender  of 
Charleston,  S.  C,  in  token  of  the  abasement  of 
the  American  forces,  General  Lincoln's  army  had 
expressly  forbidden  to  play  anything  except  an 
American  tune. 

These  things  rankle;  and  now,  at  Yorktown, 
firmly  persuaded  that  turn  about  was  only  fair 
play.  Colonel  Laurens,  the  American  officer  who 
conducted  the  negotiations,  plainly  directed  that 
the  sword  of  Cornwallis  should  be  received  by 
that  same  General  Lincoln,  whose  army  had  been 
so  unnecessarily  humbled.  All  the  other  English 
and  German  officers  were  allowed  to  retain  their 
swords.  And  in  particular.  Colonel  Laurens  in- 
sisted that  the  army,  on  marching  out  to  lay  down 
their  arms,  should  play  either  a  British  or  a  Ger- 
man air.     This  latter  was  in  reference  to  the 


24  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Hessian  soldiers,  so  bitterly  resented  by  the 
Americans. 

At  twelve  o'clock  of  that  memorable  nine- 
teenth of  October,  1781, — over  a  century  and  a 
quarter  ago, — the  whole  American  and  French 
armies  were  drawn  up  in  regiments.  The 
Americans  were  on  the  right,  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Washington,  in  full  uniform,  attended  by  his 
aides.  Always  a  noble,  stately  figure,  the  Gen- 
eral was  mounted  on  a  handsome,  light-colored 
sorrel,  with  a  white  face,  and  four  white  legs. 
This  war  horse  had  been  a  present  from  Governor 
Nelson,  of  Virginia ;  and  was  called  "Nelson,''  in 
honor  of  the  donor. 

On  the  left  side,  were  the  French  troops,  under 
Count  Rochambeau, — and  his  suite.  The  French 
Generals  were  attended  by  richly  dressed  ser- 
vants, in  handsome  liveries,  which  made  a  grand 
showing.  But  of  the  American  troops,  it  was  only 
the  regulars,  in  front,  that  looked  even  passable. 
The  militia  from  Virginia  were  ragged,  and 
poorly  clothed.  But  they  were  among  the  vic- 
tors, and  that  was  the  essential  point. 

The  innate  dignity  and  kindliness  of  Washing- 
ton are  nowhere  better  illustrated  than  by  a  little 
incident  often  related  by  Dr.  M'Caula,  who  had 
himself  served  with  distinction,  during  the  Revo- 


YANKEE  DOODLE  25 

lution.  While  the  Continental  troops  were  pre- 
paring to  receive  the  British,  who  were  to  march 
forth  and  deliver  their  arms,  Dr.  M'Caula  heard 
the  Commander  say, — addressing  himself  to  the 
division  of  the  army  to  which  he  was  attached, — 
''My  brave  fellows,  let  no  sensation  of  satisfac- 
tion for  the  triumphs  you  have  gained  induce  you 
to  insult  your  fallen  enemy.  Let  no  shouting,  no 
clamorous  huzzaing  increase  their  mortification. 
It  is  sufficient  to  us  that  we  witness  their  hu- 
miliation.    Posterity  will  huzza  for  us." 

After  long  waiting,  a  movement  was  observed 
in  the  town ;  and  finally.  General  O'Hara,  the  sec- 
ond in  command,  mounted  on  a  splendid  charger, 
issued  from  the  gates.  Every  eye  was  riveted  to 
the  spot,  expecting  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Lord 
Cornwallis.  But  the  commanding  general  had 
pleaded  illness  as  excuse  for  his  absence;  al- 
though it  is  far  more  probable  that  his  pride  would 
not  allow  him  to  appear  as  a  prisoner,  before  the 
eyes  of  those  whom  he  had  so  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  conquer. 

Slowly  and  gracefully.  General  O'Hara  rode  on 
toward  Washington.  As  he  approached  the 
American  Commander-in-chief,  the  British  officer 
removed  his  hat,  in  salutation,  ready  to  tender  his 
sword ;  when  he  was  referred  to  Greneral  Lincoln, 


20  uuii  iN/\iiUiN/vi^  i^/Yj^i^/iu;::) 

who  received  the  sword,  but  immediately  handed 
it  back  to  him.  Slowly  also,  following  their 
leader,  came  the  British  troops,  marching  out  be- 
tween the  two  lines.  They  were  sullen,  dejected, 
and  bitterly  indignant.  As  the  English  officers 
passed  the  French  officers,  they  saluted  each  one; 
but  they  took  pains  to  show  no  such  courtesy  to 
the  Americans  in  command. 

In  such  manner  was  the  red  standard  of  Eng- 
land lowered  before  her  newest  enemy,  and  her 
oldest  antagonist;  as  the  army  of  Lord  Corn- 
wallis,  7,247  in  number,  together  with  840  sea- 
men, marched  out,  with  shouldered  arms,  and 
with  colors  furled  and  cased;  while  the  band 
played  a  quaint  old  English  melody,  the  signifi- 
cant title  of  which  was,  'The  World  Turned  Up- 
side Down." 

To  which  our  Continental  bands  responded 
with  ''Yankee  Doodle." 

In  181 2,  "Yankee  Doodle"  again  played  an  ef- 
fective part  in  the  game  of  war.  This  time  it 
was  in  the  exploit  of  Rebecca  and  Abigail  Bates ; 
who  have  often  been  called  'The  American  Army 
of  Two."  For  the  story  of  these  heroic  Bates 
girls  may  be  found  in  many  of  the  histories  of 
their  native  Bay  State. 


J.  ir\.i.\  j.vj_i,j_L/    j_>'v_yv^JL>'J-rJj-, 


The  scene  of  the  adventure  was  the  old  Scituate 
Lighthouse,  built  on  the  Sandhills,  Scituate, — 
twenty-five  miles  southeast  of  Boston.  The  lan- 
tern has  been  removed  these  many  years,  from  the 
old  stone  tower,  which  has  stood  idle,  on  the  end 
of  the  Sand  Hills,  ever  since  the  establishment  of 
Minot's  light,  with  which  it  was  apt  to  be  con- 
fused by  mariners.  But  in  those  early  days  of 
1812,  the  two  daughters  of  Aaron  Bates,  the 
lighthouse-keeper,  lived  there  with  their  father, 
on  the  lonely  strip  of  beach,  a  good  half-mile  from 
the  little  village  of  Scituate. 

One  day,  their  father  was  busy  in  his  fields, 
which  were  quite  a  mile  away  from  the  lighthouse, 
when  a  British  man-of-war  came  sailing  in,  and 
anchored  half  a  mile  off  the  shore.  The  boat- 
loads of  sailors  soon  started  for  the  shore ;  and  the 
invasion  of  Scituate  would  undoubtedly  have 
taken  place,  there  and  then,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  courage  and  quick-witted  cleverness  of  these 
two  young  girls.  Hastily  seizing  from  their  ac- 
customed places  on  the  wall,  a  fife  and  drum 
which  had  been  carried  by  their  grandfather,  dur- 
ing the  Revolution,  and  on  which  they  had  fre- 
quently practiced,  themselves,  Rebecca  and  Abi- 
gail hid  behind  a  sandhill,  and  struck  up  "Yankee 
Doodle"  so  bravely,  and  to  such  good  effect,  that 


the  sailors  changed  their  minds  about  making  a 
landing,  and  returned  to  their  ship,  which  soon 
sailed  away.  ''Yankee  Doodle"  had  served  its 
purpose  well. 

And  in  spite  of  all  its  shortcomings,  we  love  it 
still.  Even  though  the  words  are  lacking  in  ex- 
alted sentiment,  the  brisk,  rollicking,  saucy  gaiety 
of  the  tune,  and  the  hallowed  historic  associations 
will  always  assure,  for  this  song,  its  own  distinc- 
tive place  among  our  National  Ballads. 


HAIL  COLUMBIA 


HAIL.  COLUMBIA 

Jos.  HOPKINSON,    1798. 

Hail,  Columbia !  happy  land ! 

Hail,  ye  heroes!  heaven-born  band! 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause, 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause, 
And  when  the  storm  of  war  was  gone, 
Enjoyed  the  peace  your  valor  won. 

Let  independence  be  our  boast. 

Ever  mindful  what  it  cost; 

Ever  grateful  for  the  prize. 

Let  its  altar  reach  the  skies. 

Firm,  united,  let  us  be. 
Rallying  round  our  Liberty; 
As  a  band  of  brothers  joined. 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 

Immortal  patriots !  rise  once  more : 
Defend  your  rights,  defend  your  shore: 

Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand. 

Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand. 
Invade  the  shrine  where  sacred  lies 
Of  toil  and  blood  the  well-earned  prize. 

While  offering  peace  sincere  and  just, 

In  Heaven  we  place   a  manly  trust. 

That  truth  and  justice  will  prevail. 

And  every  scheme  of  bondage  fail. 

Sound,  sound  the  trump  of  Fame! 
het  Washington's  great  name 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause. 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause; 
Let  every  clime  to  Freedom  dear, 
Listen  with  a  joyful  ear. 

With  equal  skill,  and  godlike  power, 

He  governs  in  the  fearful  hour 

Of  horrid  war;  or  guides,  with  ease. 

The  happier  times  of  honest  peace. 

Behold  the  Chief  who  now  commands, 
Once  more  to  serve  his  country,   stands — 

The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat ; 

The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat. 
But,  arm'd  in  virtue  firm  and  true, 
His  hopes  are  fix'd  on  Heaven  and  you. 

When  hope  was  sinking  in  dismay, 

And  gloom  obscured  Columbia's  day, 

His  steady  mind,  from  changes  frfee. 

Resolved  on  death  or  liberty. 


HAIL  COLUMBIA 

Though  deposed  now,  from  equal  rank,  "Hail 
Columbia,''  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  divided 
honors  as  a  national  song  with  its  younger  rival 
of  1S14,  'The  Star-Spangled  Banner,''  and  was 
played  on  every  ship  of  Uncle  Sam's  Navy,  when 
the  colors  were  lowered  at  sunset. 

Heretofore,  in  desiring  to  do  homage  to  Amer- 
ica, or  to  a  distinguished  American,  European 
bands  have  always  played  ''Hail  Columbia." 
This  was  the  tune  that  saluted  the  first  American 
warship  that  passed  through  Germany's  great 
canal  at  Kiel.  It  was  played  as  a  compliment  to 
Thomas  Edison  when  that  famous  inventor  en- 
tered the  Grand  Opera  House  in  Paris,  1889. 
Consequently,  in  order  to  avoid  the  confusion 
arising,  abroad,  from  our  having  two  equally 
popular  patriotic  melodies,  and  particularly  that 
foreign  nations  might  know  positively  with  what 
music  to  greet  our  warships  and  their  officers. 
Admiral  Dewey  is  said  to  have  brought  about  the 
adoption  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner"  as  the 
officially  recognized  national  anthem. 

31 


32  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  shorn  of  official  dignity,  the  melody  of  ''Hail 
Columbia"  continues  to  be  a  favorite,  as  it  comes 
within  easy  range  of  the  average  singing  citizen, 
— a  vital  point  in  its  favor.  This,  perhaps,  is 
why  it  has  always  been  so  beloved  by  the  people 
that  a  testy  critic  refers  to  it  as  ''the  most  thread- 
bare of  all  our  patriotic  outbursts."  Perhaps  he 
was  a  little  dyspeptic,  like  Thomas  Carlyle. 

A  witty  diplomatist  once  remarked  that  the  real 
motto  of  the  American  people  is  "Dieu  et  Mon- 
roe." In  spite  of  this  fact,  "Hail  Columbia" 
sprang  into  being  as  a  side  issue  of  the  dispute 
between  two  alien  countries. 

During  the  first  year  of  Washington's  adminis- 
tration, the  French  Revolution  broke  out.  And 
by  the  second  year  of  that  term,  it  had  reached  its 
most  frightful  period.  We  can  hardly  realize 
how  many  difficulties  surrounded  the  first  Presi- 
dent and  his  advisers,  from  the  outset.  The  na- 
tion was  deeply  in  debt,  and  its  currency  was  a 
paper  one.  Oppressed  for  so  many  years  by  the 
burdens  of  an  unequal  war,  the  people  were  irri- 
tated by  the  necessarily  heavy  taxes.  The  In- 
dians on  the  borders  of  the  settled  States  were 
troublesome,  and  the  relations  of  the  United 
States  with  the  European  countries  were  strained 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  33 

to  a  point  that  at  times  was  alarming,  by  reason 
of  the  great  war  then  going  on  between  France 
and  England  which  divided  the  sympathies  of  our 
people  and  politicians. 

The  party  which  called  itself  ''Republican,"  and 
at  the  head  of  which  were  Thomas  Jefferson, 
Samuel  Adams,  James  Madison  and  Patrick 
Henry,  were  zealous  friends  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, and  were  in  sympathy  with  the  idea  of 
extending  our  aid  as  a  nation,  to  France.  The 
"Federalists,"  chief  among  whom  were  Washing- 
ton, John  Adams,  Alexander  Hamilton,  and  Jay, 
deplored  the  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution- 
ists, and  thought  their  example  rather  to  be 
avoided  than  emulated,  leaning  more  to  the  side 
of  England,  in  the  conflict  which  was  so  fiercely 
raging. 

Washington's  policy  was  at  once  vigorous  and 
moderate ;  and  at  this  distance  of  time,  his  meas- 
ures are  recognized  as  being  in  the  highest  degree 
beneficial ;  yet  at  that  period,  he  was  persistently 
caricatured  and  persecuted  by  the  newspapers. 
It  is  almost  unbelievable;  but  political  spite  even 
went  to  the  length  of  drawing  him  in  a  cartoon 
as  being  executed  by  the  guillotine.  When  he  re- 
tired from  his  second  term,  one  publication  even 
went  so  far  as  to  print  this  sentence  of  vilifica- 


34         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

tion,  "If  ever  a  nation  was  debauched  by  a  man, 
the  American  Nation  has  been  debauched  by 
Washington."  It  has  been  truly  said  that  names 
and  conditions  change,  but  human  nature  is  in- 
veterate. Between  1861  and  1865  similar  venom- 
ous sentences  were  written  about  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. One  writer  declares  that  we  can  have  no 
idea  of  the  abuse  that  was  heaped  upon  Wash- 
ington, save  by  reading  the  newspapers  and 
speeches  of  that  period.  He  supported  measures 
of  finance  which  placed  the  young  nation  on  its 
feet.  He  maintained  order,  and  put  a  stop  to  the 
aggressions  of  the  Indians.  We  had  no  re- 
sources. We  had  barely  begun  to  gather  breath 
from  our  own  war;  and  disturbances  in  Europe 
were  matters  that  Washington  considered  best 
for  us  to  avoid. 

Therefore,  Washington  issued  a  proclamation 
of  neutrality;  and  saw  that  it  was  adhered  to,  in 
the  spirit  and  in  the  letter.  It  was  this  that 
brought  the  fiercest  storm  down  upon  him.  Some 
of  the  "Yellow  journals''  of  that  day  even  went 
so  far  as  to  call  him  a  traitor.  The  whole  expe- 
rience ended  by  damaging  Washington's  health. 
The  exposures  and  hardships  of  the  Revolution 
had  made  a  heavy  drain  upon  his  constitution ;  but 
it  was  the  political  strain  and  abuse  that  came 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  35 

during  his  Presidency,  that  are  said  to  have  broken 
his  strength.  And  when  he  returned  to  Mt. 
Vernon,  it  was  as  a  man  weary  in  body  and  brain. 
The  attacks  upon  him  reached  the  height  of  their 
virulence  during  the  bloodiest  hours  of  the  French 
Revolution,  when  France  went  to  war  with  Eng- 
land because  that  obstinate  Guelph,  George  III, 
sturdily  refused  to  recognize  France  as  a  Repub- 
lic. "The  tricolor  shall  wave  on  the  bloodstained 
banks  of  the  Thames,''  exclaimed  one  of  the  fire- 
eating  French  Directors,  although  Bonaparte  al- 
ready knew  that  it  could  not  be  conveniently  ar- 
ranged. 

Having  aided  us  in  Revolutionary  times,  the 
French  expected  us  to  turn  about  and  help  them, 
in  a  very  different  sort  of  quarrel,  against  Eng- 
land. The  Directory  was  then  at  the  head  of 
affairs ;  and  the  conduct  of  the  French  government 
was  so  outrageous  as  to  disgust  many  Americans 
who  were  naturally  inclined  to  sympathize  with 
France.  Indignant  at  our  neutrality,  the  French 
nation  treated  our  representatives  with  intoler- 
able insolence,  even  threatening  an  invasion ;  and 
intimating  that  France  would  have  to  be  bought 
off  from  destroying  our  ships.  Toward  the  close 
of  Washington's  presidency,  the  arbitrary  con- 
duct of  France  to  this  country  seemed  destined  to 


36         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

force  us  into  a  conflict  whether  or  no.  This  dan- 
ger continued  into  the  period  of  John  Adams's 
term.  Only  the  firm  and  vigorous  policy  of 
George  Washington  and  his  successor  averted  the 
disaster ;  for  acts  of  hostility  had  taken  place,  and 
for  about  a  year,  there  really  was  war,  although 
it  was  never  declared. 

By  that  time,  our  first  president  had  gone  into 
a  well-earned  retirement,  from  which  he  was 
called,  to  take  command  of  the  Americans,  in 
case  war  should  actually  break  out,  with  the  spe- 
cial rank  of  Lieutenant-General. 

A  few  excellent  frigates  were  built,  and  Wash- 
ington, worn  and  tired  with  public  service,  ac- 
cepted the  commission  (June  3rd,  1798),  upon  the 
condition  that  he  should  not  be  called  into  the  field 
until  an  emergency  should  arise  which  would  re- 
quire his  actual  presence.  He  was  now  a  man 
sixty-six  years  of  age,  who  had  been  absent  from 
home  for  sixteen  long  years,  with  but  short  inter- 
vals, and  his  private  aflFairs  urgently  demanded 
personal  care. 

In  the  matter  of  France,  the  government  con- 
tinued its  anxiety  to  be  neutral,  and  the  people 
were  still  much  divided  into  parties.  Some  felt 
that  policy  and  duty  required  us  to  espouse  the 
cause  of  ''Republican  France,"  while  others  were 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  37 

for  uniting  with  England  as  the  great  preserva- 
tive power  of  good  principles  and  safe  govern- 
ment. 

Congress,  then  in  session  at  Philadelphia,  was 
anxiously  debating  what  attitude  was  best  to  as- 
sume between  the  combatants.  Very  bitter  par- 
tisan feelings  had  been  aroused  between  the 
Democrats  and  Federalists  of  the  United  States, 
because  of  the  passage  of  the  Alien  and  Sedition 
Laws,  in  1798,  as  an  outcome  of  the  trouble  be- 
tween France  and  England.  Excepting  just  be- 
fore our  Civil  War,  party  strife  has  never  run 
quite  so  high. 

It  was  during  this  summer  of  1798,  while  the 
violence  of  dissension  was  at  its  height,  that  the 
words  of  ''Hail  Colum.bia"  were  written,  by 
Joseph  Hopkinson,  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  son  of 
that  other  Philadelphia  lawyer,  Francis  Hopkin- 
son, author,  statesman,  eminent  judge,  wit,  musi- 
cian, writer  of  many  dainty  songs,  clever  artist 
with  brush  and  pencil,  who  was  one  of  the  signers 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  a  distin- 
guished patriot  of  Revolutionary  times.  He  is 
remembered  now  chiefly  by  a  satirical  little  poem 
called  the  "Battle  of  the  Kegs,"  based  upon  an 
amusing  incident  of  those  early  war  times. 

His  son,   the  Hon.   Joseph   Hopkinson,  lived 


38  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

from  1770  to  1842.  He  was  born,  and  died,  in 
his  native  Philadelphia;  and  this  one  patriotic 
lyric  is  enough  to  serve  as  his  memorial  for  many 
generations  to  come.  At  the  time  of  his  birth, 
Philadelphia  was  the  most  centrally  located  of  our 
larger  cities.  It  was  for  that  reason  that  the 
Continental  Congress  was  held  there.  And 
though  but  five  years  old,  at  the  time  that  the 
Revolution  began,  young  Hopkinson  must  have 
witnessed  many  a  stirring  scene  of  the  next  eight 
years.  And  being  one  of  fortune's  favorites,  he 
grew  to  manhood  amidst  the  most  cultured  asso- 
ciates and  refined  surroundings.  After  his  grad- 
uation he  speedily  attained  distinction  in  the  prac- 
tice of  law.  From  1828  until  1842,  he  was  a 
United  States  District  Judge.  He  held  the  ofiice 
of  Vice-President  of  the  American  Philosophical 
Society,  and  also  was  President  of  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 

Luckily,  in  a  letter  to  the  Reverend  Rufus  W. 
Griswold,  a  short  time  before  his  own  death.  Dr. 
Hopkinson  tells  how  the  words  of  "Hail  Colum- 
bia" came  to  be  penned.  In  speaking  of  the  trou- 
blous times  spoken  of  above,  he  explains  that 
"Amidst  all  the  political  turmoil  the  theatre  was 
then  open  in  our  city."  He  goes  on  to  say  that 
"a  young  actor  belonging  to  it,  Mr.  Gilbert  Fox, 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  39 

called  upon  me  one  Saturday  afternoon.  I  had 
known  him  when  he  was  at  school/'  The  young 
man,  it  seems,  was  about  to  have  a  benefit  per- 
formance on  the  following  Monday,  and  he  came 
to  Hopkinson  in  despair,  saying,  "that  as  twenty 
boxes  still  remained  unsold,  it  looked  as  though 
the  proposed  benefit  would  prove  to  be  a  failure/' 
His  prospects  were  very  disheartening,  but  he 
told  his  former  schoolmate  that  if  he  could  only 
get  a  patriotic  song,  adapted  to  the  then  popular 
''President's  March,"  he  was  quite  sure  it  would 
win  the  day  for  him.  He  said  that  the  poets  of 
the  theatrical  corps  had  been  trying  in  vain  to 
accomplish  this. 

"I  told  him,"  goes  on  the  letter,  "I  would  try 
what  I  could  do  for  him.  He  came  the  next 
afternoon,  and  the  song,  such  as  it  is,  was  ready 
for  him.  The  object  of  the  song  was  to  get  up  an 
American  spirit,  which  should  be  independent  of, 
and  above  the  interests,  passions  and  policy  of 
both  of  the  foreign  powers.  And  at  the  same 
time,  no  allusion  is  made  either  to  France  or  Eng- 
land, or  to  the  quarrel  between  them." 

It  was  duly  advertised,  that  after  the  play, — 
"The  Italian  Monk," — an  entirely  new  song,  writ- 
ten by  a  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  would  be  per- 
formed, to  the  tune  of  "The  President's  March," 


40         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

and  accompanied  by  a  full  band  as  well  as  a  grand 
chorus. 

The  house  was  packed.  The  song  found  favor, 
of  course,  with  both  parties,  as  both  were  Ameri- 
can. And  it  was  encored  and  re-encored,  in  wild 
enthusiasm,  more  than  half  a  dozen  times.  Be- 
fore its  seventh  repetition,  the  audience,  already 
familiar  with  the  tune,  had  also  learned  the  words 
of  the  refrain,  and  finally  all  rose  and  joined  with 
Mr.  Fox  in  the  chorus,  ''Firm  united  let  us  be." 

At  first  it  was  known  as  ''The  Favorite  New 
Federal  Song."  Afterward,  the  song  took  as  its 
title  the  first  two  words  of  the  opening  stanza. 
It  is  pleasing  to  note  that  Mr.  Fox,  at  this  benefit 
performance,  is  said  to  have  reaped  a  golden  har- 
vest through  the  courtesy  and  patriotism  of  his 
poetic  friend,  who  did  not  cease  to  be  a  friend 
because  the  other  man  was  in  need  of  help. 

The  fourth  stanza,  which  begins,  "Behold  the 
Chief,"  refers  to  the  President  John  Adams.  To 
digress  for  a  moment,  it  is  one  of  the  pathetic 
coincidences  of  our  history  as  a  nation,  that  John 
Adams  should  have  died  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
Fourth  of  July,  1826,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of 
American  independence,  and  that  on  the  very 
same  day  there  also  expired  Thomas  Jefferson, 
his  friend  and  coadjutor  in  helping  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  the  great  commonwealth. 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  41 

Adams  and  Jefferson  both  signed  that  one 
American  state  paper,  which  seems  Hkely  to  last 
as  long  as  civilization  exists.  Both  were  foreign 
ministers,  both  were  Vice-Presidents,  both  were 
Presidents  of  the  United  States.  Bancroft 
makes  special  mention  of  the  fact  that  when  these 
two  men  met  in  Europe,  they  were  equally  en- 
gaged in  carrying  on  negotiations  for  their  coun- 
try, and  the  intimacy  between  them  was  such  that 
each  of  them  gave  his  portrait  to  the  other. 
When  at  an  advanced  age,  they  had  both  retired 
to  private  life,  after  years  of  rivalry  and  contest 
for  the  highest  honor  in  the  gift  of  the  United 
States,  Adams  would  not  permit  any  permanent 
estrangement  between  them,  and  they  found 
themselves  engaged  in  the  most  intimate  private 
correspondence. 

Before  going  out  of  office,  John  Adams  had 
settled  every  difficult  question ;  the  establishment 
of  good  feeling  abroad,  especially  with  France, 
constituted  the  crowning  glory  of  his  administra- 
tion, so  that  Jefferson,  as  he  entered  upon  office, 
embarked  upon  the  smoothest  possible  sea. 

The  morning  of  the  fiftieth  jubilee  of  our  Dec- 
laration found  them  both  still  alive,  says  our  his- 
torian, and  as  Adams  on  that  day,  at  the  age  of 
ninety-one,  became  aware  he  was  dying,  his  last 


42  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

words  were :  ''Jefferson  still  lives."  But  Jeffer- 
son, the  younger  man  by  almost  a  decade,  had 
passed  away  a  few  hours  before  him. 

The  music  that  helped  to  make  *'Hail  Colum- 
bia" a  political  success,  had  been  written  long 
before  the  words.  And  although  there  is  consid- 
erable debate  as  to  the  composer,  we  know  defi- 
nitely that  the  melody  was  composed  in  1789,  and 
it  was  called  ''The  President's  March,"  in  honor 
of  Washington,  who  was  then  living  at  190  High 
Street,  Philadelphia,  which  we  are  prone  to  forget 
was  the  capitol  from  1790  until  1800,  just  as  we 
seldom  recollect  that  every  President,  except  our 
first  one,  has  lived  in  the  White  House. 

A  son  of  one  of  the  claimants  to  the  authorship 
of  this  march  asserts  that  it  was  played  for  the 
first  time  as  Washington  rode  over  the  Trenton 
bridge,  on  his  way  to  the  New  York  inauguration, 
where  he  took  the  oath  of  office  on  the  site  of  the 
Sub-Treasury  in  Wall  Street.  This  claimant's 
name  was  German  and  is  variously  spelled 
"Pfyles,"  "Philo,"  "Pfylo,"  "Phyla,"  "Phile," 
probably  "Fyles,"  says  one  writer  who  is  weary 
of  wrestling  with  the  matter. 

Some  believe  that  the  air  was  written  by  an- 
other German  musician  in  Philadelphia,  named 
Johannes  Roth,  or  Roat.     And  the  fact  that  there 


FRANCIS    HOPKINSON 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  43 

was  a  Philip  Roth,  teacher  of  music,  at  25  Crown 
Street,  mentioned  in  the  city  directory,  from  1791 
to  1799,  lends  some  color  to  the  assertion. 

It  remained  in  its  original  state  for  nine  years, 
but  since  it  began  its  career  as  a  "Federal"  song 
it  has  been  revised  to  a  very  considerable  extent. 

The  tune  itself  might  have  died  a  natural  death 
had  it  not  been  coupled  with  the  present  patriotic 
words,  despite  the  fact  that  Judge  Hopkinson's 
modesty  led  him  to  say  that  "the  song  has  endured 
infinitely  beyond  the  expectation  of  the  author." 

In  Charles  Coffin's  work,  "Four  Years  of 
Fighting,"  he  speaks  very  earnestly  of  the  enthu- 
siasm of  1861.  He  says  in  part,  "The  patriotism 
of  the  North  was  at  flood-tide.  Everywhere  the 
music  of  the  streets,  vocal  as  well  as  instrumental, 
was  'Hail  Columbia,'  and  'Yankee  Doodle.' " 
Even  before  that,  December,  i860,  when  Major 
Anderson  as  he  then  was,  had  taken  possession  of 
the  still  unfinished  Fort  Sumter,  and  at  noon  pre- 
cisely, on  the  second  day  after  Christmas,  raised 
the  American  flag  brought  away  from  Fort  Moul- 
trie. As  he  drew  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  of 
the  United  States  up  to  the  top  of  the  staff,  and 
the  band  broke  out  with  the  national  air  of  "Hail 
Columbia,"  loud  and  exultant  cheers,  repeated 
again  and  again,  were  given  by  the  officers,  sol- 
diers, and  workmen. 


44          OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

"If,"  says  the  narrator,  "South  Carolma  had, 
at  that  moment,  attacked  the  fort,  there  would 
have  been  no  hesitation  on  the  part  of  any  man 
within  it,  about  defending  the  flag/'  Major  An- 
derson himself  was  of  southern  birth,  and  a  vet- 
eran of  thirty-five  years'  service  in  the  United 
States  army.  His  firm  stand  for  the  Union  and 
his  sagacious  operations  in  Charleston  harbor, 
together  with  his  sturdy  defence  of  Sumter,  give 
him  a  just  claim  to  remembrance,  among  the  pre- 
servers of  the  Union.  He  defended  Fort  Sumter 
for  thirty-four  hours  of  attack,  until  the  quarters 
were  entirely  burned,  the  main  gates  destroyed 
by  fire,  the  gorge  walls  seriously  injured,  the 
magazine  surrounded  by  flames,  and  its  door 
closed  from  the  effects  of  the  heat,  and  no  pro- 
visions remaining  but  pork.  Notwithstanding  all 
this,  in  accepting  terms  of  evacuation  offered  by 
General  Beauregard,  "I  marched  out  of  the  fort, 
Sunday  afternoon,  the  14th  instant,"  he  writes 
in  his  report,  "with  colors  flying,  and  drums  beat- 
ing, bringing  away  company  and  private  prop- 
erty, and  saluting  my  flag  with  fifty  guns." 

It  is  further  related,  as  an  incident  of  Mill 
Spring,  January  19th,  1862,  that  after  the  bat- 
tle, when  the  Minnesota  regiment  returned  to  its 
quarters  at  Camp  Hamilton,  they  marched  past 


HAIL  COLUMBIA  45 

the  colonel's  marquee  with  banners  flying,  and 
their  splendid  band  playing  ''Hail  Columbia." 

Standing  in  front  of  the  tent  were  Dr.  Cliff, 
General  Zollicoffer's  brigade  surgeon,  Lieutenant 
Colonel  Carter  of  the  Twentieth  Tennessee  regi- 
ment, and  several  Union  officers.  "Hail  Colum- 
bia" affected  both  the  rebel  officers  to  tears ;  they 
wept  like  children.  And  Colonel  Carter  confessed 
that  though  compelled  to  fight  against  the  old  flag, 
he  dearly  loved  it  still. 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER 


THE  STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER 

Francis   Scott  Key,  1814. 

Oh,  say,  can  you  see,  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 

What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming, 
Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars,  thro'  the  *  clouds  of  the 
fight, 
O'er  the  ramparts  we  watched,  were  so  gallantly  streaming? 
And  the  rockets'  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  thro'  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still  there. 
Oh,   say,   does   that   star-spangled   banner  yet   wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave? 

On  the  shore  dimly  seen  thro'  the  mists  of  the  deep, 

Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 
What  is  that  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  towering  steep, 

As  it  fitfully  blows,  half  conceals,  half  discloses? 
Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam, 
In  full  glory  reflected  now   shines  on  the  stream: 

'Tis  the  star-spangled  banner:  oh,  long  may  it  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave! 

And  where  is  that  band  who  so  vauntingly  swore 

Mid  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion 
A  home  and  a  country  should  leave  us  no  more? 

Their  blood  has  washed  out  their  foul  footsteps'  pollution. 
No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave 
From  the  terror  of  flight  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave : 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

Oh,  thus  be  it  ever  when  freemen  shall  stand 

Between  their  loved  home  and  wild  war's  desolation ; 
Blest  with  vict'ry  and  peace,  may  the  heav'n-rescued  land 

Praise  the  pow'r  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation! 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto :  "In  God  is  our  trust !" 

And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

*  "Clouds  of  the  fight,"  according  to  the  last  version  by  F.  S. 
Key. 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER 

By  common  consent,  the  American  people  have 
made  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  their  National 
Anthem;  for  it  is  the  national  melody  which  is 
dearest  to  the  American  heart. 

What  matters  it,  though  the  critics  contend 
that  the  words  are  not  majestic,  that  the  music  is 
not  easy,  that  the  high  note  is  out  of  reach? 

With  convincing  emphasis,  a  current  writer  re- 
sponds, "As  it  reverberates  around  the  world, 
played  by  the  superb  bands  of  our  allies,  the  mil- 
lions of  people  who  hear  it  will  admire  and  respect 
the  music;  because  they  will  know  that  it  repre- 
sents the  best  traditions  and  the  mighty  resources 
of  a  nation  of  110,000,000  free  people."  That 
ennobles  it. 

Perhaps  a  few  words  relative  to  the  emblem 
which  it  celebrates,  may  not  be  amiss,  for  as 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  said,  "Our  flag  carries 
American  ideas,  American  history,  and  American 
feelings." 

During  the  very  early  colonial  times,  there  were 
many  different  kinds  of  flags,  which  represented 

49 

19266 


50         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

the  various  nations  which  had  settlements  dotted 
here  and  there  in  the  wilderness.  We  had  no  dis- 
tinctive flag  of  our  own,  until  the  Revolutionary- 
days.  During  the  Provincial  period,  the  English 
flag  of  that  date  was  in  use  from  Maine  to  Geor- 
gia, with  various  devices,  mottoes,  and  colors, 
which  would  look  strange  enough  to  us  now.  For 
some  of  the  flags  were  all  red,  with  horizontal 
stripes,  or  red  and  blue  stripes  only,  while  others 
were  red,  blue,  white  or  yellow. 

All  told  we  were  thirteen  feeble  little  states, 
fringed  at  intervals  along  the  great  Atlantic  sea 
coast,  with  the  scattered  settlements  separated 
from  each  other  by  long,  lonely  distances;  and 
back  of  these  lay  only  the  savage,  unbroken  for- 
est. 

The  first  really  American  flag  had  its  origin  in 
a  resolution  adopted  by  the  American  Congress 
on  June  14th,  1777.  They  ''Resolved  that  the 
flag  of  the  thirteen  United  States  be  thirteen 
stripes,  alternate  red  and  white;  that  the  union 
(or  canton), be  thirteen  stars,  white  in  a  blue  field, 
representing  a  new  constellation."  Fortunately, 
we  have  an  explanation  of  the  colors  and  sym- 
bolic meaning  of  the  "Stars  and  Stripes"  which 
was  written  by  a  member  of  the  old  Continental 
Congress,  to  whom  along  with  others  was  com- 


FRANCIS   SCOTT    KEY 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  51 

mitted  the  duty  of  selecting  a  flag  for  the  infant 
confederacy.  He  says,  "The  stars  of  the  new 
flag  represent  the  constellation  of  States  rising 
in  the  West.  The  idea  was  taken  from  the  con- 
stellation Lyra;  which,  in  the  hand  of  Orpheus, 
signifies  harmony.  The  stars  were  in  a  circle, 
symbolizing  the  perpetuity  of  the  Union ;  the  ring 
like  the  circling  serpent  of  the  Egyptians,  sig- 
nifying eternity.  The  thirteen  stripes  showed, 
together  with  the  stars,  the  number  of  the  United 
Colonies,  and  denoted  the  subordination  of  the 
States  to  the  Union,  as  well  as  equality  among 
themselves.  The  red  color,  which  in  the  Roman 
day  was  the  signal  of  defiance,  denotes  courage, 
the  blue  fidelity,  and  the  white,  purity." 

'Tt  is  the  flag  of  history,"  says  another. 
"Those  thirteen  stripes  tell  the  story  of  our  co- 
lonial struggle, — of  the  days  of  '76.  They  speak 
of  the  pathless  wilderness, — of  old  Independence 
Hall,  of  Valley  Forge  and  Yorktown.  Those 
stars  tell  the  story  of  our  nation's  growth;  how 
it  has  come  from  weakness  to  strength;  until  its 
gleam,  in  the  sunrise  over  the  forests  of  Maine, 
crimsons  the  sunset's  dying  beams  upon  the 
golden  sands  of  California." 

When  we  rebelled, — for  it  was  nothing  less 
than  that  to  England,  and  our  George  Washing- 


52  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

ton  was  merely  a  leading  rebel, — we  had  neither 
place  nor  name  among  the  great  family  of  na- 
tions.    Neither  had  we  any  flag  of  our  own. 

Our  army  at  Cambridge  celebrated  New  Year's 
Day,  January  ist,  1776,  by  unfurling,  for  the  first 
time  in  an  American  camp,  the  flag  of  thirteen 
stripes.  This  famous  first  colonial  flag,  said  to 
have  been  hoisted  by  George  Washington,  was 
the  "Great  Union,"  and  consisted  of  the  thirteen 
alternate  red  and  white  stripes,  like  the  present 
flag  of  the  United  States,  but  with  the  red  cross 
of  St.  George,  and  the  white  cross  of  St.  Andrew 
emblazoned  on  the  blue  corner,  or  canton,  in  the 
place  which  the  stars  now  occupy. 

Not  until  the  14th  of  June,  of  the  next  year, 
did  Congress,  which  met  then  in  Philadelphia, 
settle  definitely  upon  the  design  we  know  as  "The 
Stars  and  Stripes." 

At  Oriskany  Falls,  New  York,  five  British 
standards  were  captured;  and  upon  returning  to 
Fort  Stanwix,  they  were  hoisted,  and  above  them 
was  placed  an  uncouth  flag  which  was  intended, 
in  good  faith,  to  represent  the  new  American 
stars  and  stripes.  This  rude  banner,  which  had 
been  hastily  extemporized  out  of  a  white  shirt,  an 
old  blue  coat,  and  some  strips  of  red  flannel,  was 
the  first  American  flag  made  after  the  new  style, 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  53 

that  was  ever  raised  in  victory.  And  it  was  flung 
to  the  breeze  on  that  memorable  day  of  Oriskany, 
August  6th,  1777. 

The  thirteen  stars  and  thirteen  stripes  helped 
to  cheer  the  hungry  and  half-clad  patriot  sol- 
diers at  Valley  Forge,  in  that  bitter  winter  of 
1777,  when  Washington  once  called  the  com- 
manding officer  of  a  detachment  that  had  just 
paraded  before  him,  and  sternly  asked,  "How 
comes  it,  sir,  that  I  have  tracked  the  march  of 
your  troops  by  the  bloodstains  of  their  feet  upon 
the  frozen  ground?"  'Toor  fellows!"  he  ex- 
claimed with  a  voice  tremulous,  but  kindly,  when 
it  was  explained  to  him  that  the  supply  of  shoes 
was  entirely  exhausted.  For  the  General,  us- 
ually so  impassive,  was  observed  to  be  deeply  af- 
fected by  the  officer's  description  of  his  soldier's 
privations  and  sufferings. 

In  the  War  of  1812,  the  sea  breezes  blew  over 
no  American  ship  that  did  not  have  the  flag  of 
stars  and  stripes  at  its  fore;  its  folds  seemed  to  be 
filled  with  voices  that  called  aloud  the  names  of 
the  gallant  seamen, — Lawrence,  Perry,  Hull,  De- 
catur, and  many  others  whose  names  will  never 
perish. 

It  had  been  decreed  that  on  the  admission  of  a 
new  State,  a  new  Star  should  be  added  to  the 


54  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

constellation.  These  stars  have  five  points,  where 
those  on  our  coins  have  six.  The  stars  were  at 
first  arranged  on  our  flags  in  circles,  then  in  the 
form  of  a  large  star.  Now  they  run  in  parallel 
lines. 

When,  almost  a  century  ago.  Lieutenant  Colo- 
nel George  Armistead,  in  disobedience  to  his  or- 
ders, beat  off  the  British  from  Baltimore,  the  gov- 
ernment did  not  court-martial  him,  but  instead, 
raised  him,  by  brevet,  one  grade,  and  presented 
to  him  outright,  the  flag  he  had  saved, — The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner  which  flew  over  Fort  ^McHenry 
during  its  bombardment,  and  inspired  Francis 
Scott  Key  to  write  our  national  ode. 

The  design  is  somewhat  different  from  those 
we  are  accustomed  to  see.  And  it  was  made 
by  the  daughter  of  that  Rebecca  Young,  who 
made  the  first  flag  of  the  Revolution,  under  the 
direction  of  Washington  himself.  Being  about 
forty  feet  by  twenty-nine,  it  was  too  large  for 
any  ordinary  house;  so  Mrs.  Pickersgill  sewed 
upon  it  in  Clagitt's  brewery,  in  Baltimore,  work- 
ing patiently  many  a  night  up  until  midnight. 

A  photograph  of  it,  taken  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  shows  a  big  hole  near  the  center, 
which  was  made  by  a  bombshell,  during  the  bom- 
bardment, and  a  large  section  is  missing  from  one 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  55 

corner.  This  is  because,  many  years  ago,  when 
one  of  the  defenders  of  the  fort  died,  he  begged, 
as  a  last  request,  that  his  body  should  be  wrapped 
in  a  piece  of  the  flag;  and  his  dying  wish  was  re- 
spected. It  was  probably  used  in  the  funeral 
procession  of  Colonel  Armistead  in  1818;  for  the 
gallant  officer  lived  but  a  short  time,  to  enjoy 
the  possession  of  it. 

This  cherished  Star-Spangled  Banner  floated 
over  Washington's  own  tent,  which  sheltered 
Lafayette,  on  his  visit  to  Fort  McHenry,  in  1824, 
a  dozen  years  after  the  War  of  1812 ;  and  twenty- 
five  years  after  the  death  of  his  old  friend,  George 
Washington.  What  memories  these  two  historic 
relics  must  have  wakened  in  the  breast  of  the  il- 
lustrious Frenchman !  His  own  grave  is  situated 
in  old  Paris,  within  the  grounds  of  a  convent  that 
the  ancestors  of  Lafayette  founded,  and  where 
repose  the  remains  of  many  of  the  French  no- 
bility. An  American  who  made  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  tomb  of  this  friend  of  liberty,  relates  this: 
*'The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  attention  in 
connection  with  the  hero's  resting-place,  was,  that 
above  it  floated  a  silken  flag,  bearing  the  Stars 
and  Stripes." 

During  the  Civil  War,  the  priceless  flag  of  Fort 
McHenry  is  said  to  have  been  sent  to  England, 


56  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

for  safe  keeping.  It  was  exhibited  during  the 
Centennial,  at  Philadelphia.  But  it  is  not  strong 
enough  to  fling  out  to  the  breeze,  these  days.  By 
reason  of  age  and  general  debility,  it  was  found 
necessary,  some  years  ago,  to  stitch  it  upon  a  firm 
canvas  back.  However,  while  its  days  of  active 
service  are  over,  it  will  always  be  fondly  treas- 
ured as  long  as  there  yet  remains  to  us  the  least 
bit  of 

"Its  red  for  love,  and  its  white  for  law; 
And  its  blue  for  the  hope,  that  our  fathers  saw, 
Of  a  larger  Hberty." 

To  the  friendship  of  one  young  man  for  an- 
other, we  are  indebted,  in  all  probability,  for 
the  song,  which  above  every  other  seems  to  be 
an  essential  part  of  the  American  nation. 

Dr.  Beanes,  a  leading  physician  of  Upper  Marl- 
borough, Maryland,  had  been  taken  captive  by 
the  British.  He  was  then  held  prisoner  by  the 
admiral,  presumably  to  be  finally  carried  off.  It 
was  during  the  summer  of  1814,  when  the  war 
which  was  then  raging  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britain  seemed  to  have  turned  in  favor 
of  the  latter  nation. 

Nothing  daunted,  Francis  Scott  Key,  a  young 
lawyer  of  Baltimore,  who  was  a  personal  friend 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  57 

of  Dr.  Beanes,  determined  to  seek  the  British 
admiral,  in  order  to  obtain  his  release,  if  possible. 
A  small  vessel  in  Baltimore  which  was  used  as 
a  flag-of-truce  boat  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners, 
was  placed  at  Mr.  Key's  disposal.  It  was  in 
charge  of  John  S.  Skinner,  the  commissioner. 
Having  secured  the  proper  credentials  from  Pres- 
ident JNIadison,  and  proofs  that  Dr.  Beanes  was 
a  non-combatant,  Mr.  Key,  in  the  hope  of  gaining 
his  liberation,  set  out  on  what  was  at  that  time,  a 
dangerous  mission. 

For  nearly  three  years  the  tide  of  combat  had 
alternated.  Our  country  was  young,  and  poor, 
and  sparsely  settled;  and  we  were  fighting  the 
finest  army  and  navy  on  earth.  The  shores  of 
Chesapeake  Bay  were  ravaged  by  the  British 
fleet,  under  Admiral  Cockburn;  even  Baltimore 
itself  was  threatened  with  speedy  capture. 

The  British  had  landed  on  our  southern  coast ; 
and  making  havoc  of  villages  and  plantations  as 
they  went,  they  took  the  city  of  Washington,  and 
burned  the  Capitol,  and  the  President's  house, 
from  which  Mr.  ]\Iadison  and  his  family  had  for- 
tunately escaped,  into  Virginia. 

The  beautiful  Dolly  Madison  had  managed  to 
save  the  Cabinet  papers  by  "pressing  them  into 
trunks,  as  to  fill  one  carriage."     She  also  man- 


58         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

aged  to  save  the  treasured  Gilbert  Stuart  oil 
painting  of  George  Washington.  The  portrait 
hung  so  high  that  a  step-ladder  was  required  to 
reach  it.  And  as  it  was  screwed  fast  to  the  wall, 
and  the  process  of  unscrewing  it  was  found  to  be 
too  tedious  for  those  perilous  moments,  she  or- 
dered the  frame  broken,  and  the  canvas  taken  out. 
Their  private  property  had  to  be  sacrificed. 

On  that  very  morning,  General  Armstrong  had 
assured  Mrs.  Madison  there  was  no  danger. 
That  afternoon  about  three,  the  household  was 
compelled  to  flee,  to  avoid  capture;  for  the 
British  were  expected  at  any  minute.  Only  a  few 
hours  after  the  President  and  his  wife  had  left 
the  Capitol,  Ross  and  Cockburn,  the  British  com- 
manders, entered  the  city  at  the  head  of  their 
troops,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  set  fire  to  the 
Capitol.  Then,  by  the  lurid  light  of  the  flames, 
they  marched  two  miles  to  the  White  House, 
where,  after  the  rooms  were  ransacked,  the  furni- 
ture was  piled  together  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
fired  by  coals  secured  from  a  neighboring  tavern. 
It  is  said  that  the  fires  lighted  up  the  midnight 
sky  till  the  red  glare  could  be  seen  for  many  miles. 
But  a  fearful  tornado  followed  their  conflagra- 
tion, and  the  British  were  awe-struck,  as  well  as 
uneasy  at  vague  rumors  of  renewed  attacks  by 


THE   STAR-SPANGLED    BANNER    WHICH    INSPIRED    THE   SONG 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  59 

the  Americans ;  so  they  withdrew  from  Washing- 
ton. When,  after  forty-eight  hours  of  fright 
and  discomfort,  Mrs.  Madison  again  entered  the 
city,  it  was  to  find  the  house  that  she  had  left,  a 
mass  of  smoking  ruins. 

Some  weeks  later,  just  at  a  most  critical  time, 
the  American  envoy,  Mr.  Key,  innocently  made 
his  way,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  to  the  Admiral's 
ship,  in  Chesapeake  Bay;  and  he  could  hardly 
have  arrived  at  a  more  inopportune  moment. 

Admiral  Cockburn  had  transferred  Dr.  Beanes 
to  the  custody  of  Vice-Admiral  Cochrane,  and  to 
him  Mr.  Key  now  went.  However,  Admiral 
Cockburn  had  planned  a  concerted  attack,  both  by 
land  and  sea,  upon  Fort  McHenry,  by  which  Bal- 
timore was  defended. 

While  the  Vice-Admiral  agreed  to  release  the 
doctor,  and  treated  Mr.  Key  with  courtesy,  he 
refused  to  allow  them  to  go  back,  until  the  fort 
had  been  reduced,  as  he  knew  that  the  Ameri- 
cans must  have  seen  the  preparations  that  were 
going  on  in  the  fleet,  and  would  no  doubt  disclose 
the  intended  attack,  were  they  permitted  to  re- 
turn. 

He  is  said  to  have  detained  the  party  on  board 
his  son's  ship,  The  Surprise,  and  still  later  placed 
them,  under  guard,  on  their  own  little  cartel,  or 


6o          OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

flag-of-truce  boat,  during  the  night  of  the  at- 
tack. 

As  Mr.  Key  was,  at  the  time,  a  volunteer  in  the 
light  artillery,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  his  bit- 
ter disappointment  at  being  compelled  to  remain 
with  the  enemy  during  the  important  battle  which 
ensued.  Key  is  said  to  have  had  a  deeply  per- 
sonal concern  in  the  result,  inasmuch  as  the  fort 
was  defended  by  only  a  small  force  of  regulars, 
which  were  supplemented  by  volunteer  artillerists, 
under  the  command  of  Judge  Nicholson,  a  broth- 
er-in-law of  Mr.  Key. 

All  day  long  he  watched  the  flag  at  the  fort, 
until  the  gathering  darkness  prevented  his  seeing 
it  any  more;  for  the  bombardment  which  began 
on  the  thirteenth  of  September,  1814,  was  con- 
tinued throughout  the  night  following.  Less 
than  a  month  had  elapsed,  since  he  had  seen  from 
his  own  home,  the  light  of  the  burning  buildings 
in  Washington;  and  well  he  knew  the  fate  that 
was  in  store  for  Baltimore,  should  the  attack  suc- 
ceed. 

Admiral  Cockburn  counted  on  the  taking  of 
Fort  McHenry  being  an  easy  task;  little  dream- 
ing that  the  attack  would  become  famous  in 
American  history,  for  an  entirely  different  rea- 
son.    But  to  the  little  party  of  prisoners  on  their 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  6i 

flag-of-truce  boat,  the  situation  was  most  depress- 
ing. 

The  bombardment  lasted  from  Tuesday  morn- 
ing, until  after  midnight ;  and  the  American  gun- 
ners were  unable  to  reply,  because  the  forty-two 
pounders,  with  which  they  were  equipped,  could 
not  reach  the  fleet.  Attacked  as  it  was,  both 
from  land  and  water,  incapable  of  returning  the 
fire  of  the  British  vessels,  the  little  fort  of  brick 
and  earth,  crouching  on  its  projecting  point  of 
land,  seemed  doomed  to  destruction;  and  with  it, 
the  city  itself.  Yet  at  sunset,  the  flag  was  still 
waving  from  the  ramparts.  Some  accounts  state 
that  Key  had  been  told  to  look  well  at  the  flag  that 
evening,  as  he  would  not  see  it  there,  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

By  this  time,  the  American  party  on  the  cartel- 
ship,  had  been  augmented  by  the  addition  of  Dr. 
Beanes ;  for  the  Vice-Admiral  Cochrane  had  been 
as  good  as  his  word,  and  had  given  the  physician 
into  their  charge.  During  the  suspense  of  that 
terrible  night,  sleep  was  out  of  the  question. 
Held  as  prisoners,  on  their  own  little  boat,  ex- 
posed to  the  fire  from  the  shore,  as  the  darkness 
deepened,  though  they  watched  eagerly,  they 
could  see  the  flag  on  its  staff  only  by  the  fitful 
glare  of  the  battle,  as  the  bomb-shells  exploded. 


62  OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

After  midnight,  there  came  a  cessation  of  fir- 
ing. But  it  was  renewed,  an  hour  later,  and  at 
closer  quarters.  Then,  toward  dawn,  it  ceased. 
Those  were  the  most  trying  moments  of  all,  for 
so  long  as  the  firing  continued,  it  was  evident  that 
the  fort  was  holding  out ;  and  the  shore  was  still 
shrouded  from  the  straining  eyes  of  the  three 
Americans,  by  the  vapors. 

The  early  morning  hours  found  them  still  pac- 
ing the  deck,  impatiently  waiting  for  the  dawn, 
that  they  might  see  the  result.  Looking  through 
Mr.  Key's  field  glasses,  it  was  with  the  greatest 
anxiety  that  the  Americans  again  examined  the 
fort,  in  the  dim  gray  of  that  eventful  morning. 

At  last  they  were  rewarded  for  their  long  vigil. 
A  rift  in  the  mist  disclosed  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
yet  floating  over  the  American  defences.  The 
attack  had  failed,  in  spite  of  the  Admiral's  boast 
that  he  would  carry  the  fort  in  a  few  hours,  and 
then  the  city  must  fall ;  a  boast  most  feelingly  al- 
luded to,  in  the  third  stanza  of  the  song. 

Mr.  Key  did  not  know  that  soon  after  midnight. 
Admiral  Cockburn  had  received  word  that  the 
land  attack  on  the  fort  had  been  repulsed,  the  com- 
mander, Ross,  having  been  killed ;  and  unless  the 
fort  could  be  destroyed  by  the  fleet,  the  expedi- 
tion would  fail.     This  explained  the  fierce  bom- 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  63 

bardment  at  close  quarters,  which  had  begun  at 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Sixteen  British 
frigates,  with  a  full  complement  of  bomb-ketches 
and  barges  had  taken  part.  Yet,  strange  to  say, 
only  four  men  of  the  garrison  were  killed,  and 
but  twenty-four  wounded,  although  between  fif- 
teen and  eighteen  hundred  shells  had  been  thrown, 
about  four  hundred  of  which  fell  within  the  forti- 
fications. 

All  that  Key  knew  at  the  time,  was  that  ''the 
flag  was  still  there." 

Later  on  the  Americans  were  notified  that  as 
the  attack  was  unsuccessful  and  the  soldiers  were 
re-embarking,  the  American  party  were  free  to 
depart,  as  soon  as  the  troops  had  come  on  board. 

Beginning  with  that  thrilling  moment  of  the 
gray  dawn,  when  he  was  first  able  to  espy  his  flag, 
Mr.  Key  had  begun  to  jot  down,  on  the  back  of  a 
letter,  which  he  happened  to  have  in  his  pocket, 
the  opening  stanza  of  the  poem  soon  to  become 
so  celebrated.  Finishing  it,  as  the  boat  was  go- 
ing up  to  Baltimore,  he  wrote  out  a  copy  of  the 
verses,  at  the  hotel,  the  same  day.  From  this, 
other  copies  were  at  once  struck  off,  in  handbill 
form,  under  the  title,  'The  Bombardment  of  Fort 
McHenry,"  with  the  added  instruction  that  the 
old  air,  "To  Anacreon  in  Heaven,''  had  been 
adapted  to  it,  by  the  author. 


64         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

That  night,  in  the  tavern  adjoining  the  HoUi- 
day  Street  Theatre,  in  Baltimore,  Ferdinand  Du- 
rang  mounted  a  chair,  and  sang  the  "Star-Span- 
gled Banner,"  for  the  first  time.  The  effect  was 
an  outburst  of  patriotic  enthusiasm.  A  week 
later  it  was  printed  in  the  newspaper,  Baltimore 
American,  which  also  stated  that  it  was  to  be  sung 
to  the  melody,  ''Anacreon  in  Heaven,"  a  tune  or- 
iginally used  with  an  old  English  drinking  song, 
— I  grieve  to  say, — a  rollicking  song  of  a  date  be- 
tween 1770  and  1775. 

The  melody  has  been  credited,  in  turn,  to  Dr. 
Samuel  Arnold  (1739-1803),  composer  to  His 
Majesty's  Chapel,  and  also  as  transcribed  from  an 
''old  French  air"  by  John  Stafford  Smith. 

As  for  Anacreon, — he  was  one  of  the  most 
famous  lyric  poets  of  Greece ;  and  flourished  about 
five  hundred  years  before  Christ ;  so  that  we  must 
assume  that  the  Heaven  of  Anacreon  was  dis- 
tinctly the  Heaven  of  the  Greeks.  His  poems 
were  inspired  by  love  and  wine.  However,  he 
probably  sentimentalized  considerably,  in  both  di- 
rections, as  his  poems  are  models  of  delicate  grace, 
simplicity  and  ease;  all  of  which  entail  a  liberal 
dose  of  Mr.  Edison's  formula  for  genius.  In 
any  case,  while  Anacreon  had  his  ups  and  downs, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  he  managed  to  pass  a  gay  and 


"1 

1 

:             1 

^ 

i,^Vf'<'    :'  «ii!| 

STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  65 

happy  old  age,  when,  according  to  tradition,  he 
was  choked  to  death  by  a  grape-seed,  in  his  eighty- 
fifth  year;  so  that  it  would  appear  at  last,  that 
the  punishment  fitted  the  crime. 

The  name  of  our  melody  is  taken  from  the 
words  attributed  to  Ralph  Tomlinson,  who  was 
president  of  the  Anacreontic  Society  of  London, 
in  the  last  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  was 
a  Bohemian,  rather  than  a  bacchanalian  club, 
holding  its  meetings  at  the  ''Crown  and  Anchor," 
in  the  Strand.  And  by  a  singular  coincidence, 
the  birth  of  freedom  in  America,  and  the  melody 
which  was  destined  to  become  the  chief  song  of 
freedom,  happened  to  occur  about  the  same  period 
of  time;  although  the  original  air  dififers  a  little 
from  the  present  setting. 

In  England,  other  sets  of  words  were  adapted 
to  the  air,  for  the  tune  became  very  popular. 
Even  as  early  as  the  eighteenth  century,  it  was 
known  to  nearly  every  one  in  the  United  States ; 
but  the  music  was  travelling  now  in  better  com- 
pany, insofar  as  the  words  were  concerned,  for 
the  verses  set  to  it  began  to  take  on  a  patriotic 
cast  of  countenance.  The  first  of  such  settings 
being  made  in  1798,  by  Robert  Treat  Paine,  son 
of  that  Robert  Treat  Paine  who  signed  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence.  Numerous  different 
verses  followed. 


66         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

From  its  popularity,  Mr.  Key  was  probably 
very  familiar  with  the  old  melody  to  which  he 
had  wedded  his  inspired  verses,  and  the  song  car- 
ried everything  before  it.  The  very  fact  that 
the  British  Admiral  had  boasted  that  he  would 
carry  Fort  McHenry  in  a  few  short  hours,  added 
piquancy  to  the  reality  of  his  defeat. 

The  words  have  continued  to  inspire  patriot 
zeal  in  the  people  for  whom  they  were  written. 
During  the  Civil  War  times,  the  faithfulness  of 
many  of  the  citizens  of  North  Carolina  to  the  Na- 
tional Government  was  shown  in  a  picturesque 
incident  at  the  surrender  of  Fort  Macon,  which 
commanded  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  of  Beau- 
fort, and  was  taken  by  the  Unionists  on  April 
25th,  1862. 

When  the  Southern  flag  was  struck,  and  the 
national  standard  took  its  place,  an  old  man  with 
a  long  white  beard,  leaped  upon  the  ruined  ram- 
part, with  a  silver  bugle  in  his  hand,  and  joy- 
ously blew  the  notes  of  ''The  Star-Spangled  Ban- 
ner. 

Francis  Scott  Key  was  the  son  of  John  Ross 
Key,  an  officer  of  the  Revolutionary  army.  Our 
distinguished  Marylander  was  born  in  Frederick 
county,  August  ist,  1779,  and  died  in  Washing- 
ton, D.  C,  January  nth,  1843,  leaving  the  "Star- 


KEY'S   GRAVE   AT   FREDERICK,    MARYLAND,    OVER   WHICH 
THE   FLAG     FLOATS 


STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER  67 

Spangled  Banner"  as  a  lasting  monument  to  his 
patriotic  spirit.  This  lives  also  in  his  descend- 
ants, for  a  great-grandson  was  cited  for  a  dec- 
oration by  King  Albert  of  the  Belgians  as  a  re- 
ward for  valor  during  the  great  world  war. 

The  love  of  the  people  for  their  ''Star-Spangled 
Banner"  has  never  abated,  in  the  century  that  has 
come  and  gone.  Today,  it  stands  as  our  rep- 
resentative national  melody,  both  at  home  and 
abroad.  And  still  it  thrills  the  true  American, 
be  he  citizen,  soldier,  or  sailor,  with  the  same  de- 
votion to  the  old  flag  that  Francis  Key  breathed 
into  those  vivid  lines,  jotted  -down  red-hot  from 
his  heart,  on  that  long  ago  September  morning, 
although  three  quarters  of  a  century  have  passed, 
since  he  was  gathered  to  his  fathers.  Now  it  ap- 
pears that  the  ancient  fortress  is  also  destined  to 
rest  in  peace. 

During  midsummer  of  1912,  this  little  para- 
graph was  found  in  a  metropolitan  journal,  dated 
Baltimore,  July  20th.  It  reads,  ''The  bugle  re- 
veille call  which  has  echoed  across  the  Patapsco 
River,  and  through  historic  Fort  McHenry,  for 
the  past  137  years,  was  sounded  this  morning  for 
the  last  time ;  marking  the  abandonment  of  the  old 
garrison  as  a  military  post.  The  soldiers  sta- 
tioned there  were  sent  -to  Fort  Strong,  Mass. 


68         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

*The  old  fort,  over  which  floated  the  flag  which 
inspired  Francis  Scott  Key  to  write  'The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner/  has  long  been  regarded  by  the 
War  Department  as  useless,  for  a  means  of  de- 
fence. It  will  hereafter  be  in  charge  of  a  civilian 
caretaker." 

In  commemoration  of  the  one  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  the  writing  of  the  song,  a  buoy  has 
been  anchored  in  Baltimore  harbor,  as  nearly  as 
possible  to  the  spot  where  Mr.  Key  wrote  his 
famous  song ;  a  buoy  on  which  is  painted  red  and 
white  stripes,  and  white  stars  on  a  blue  field. 


AMERICA 


AMERICA 

My  country !  'tis  of  thee,  sweet  land  of  liberty,  of  thee  I  sing : 
Land    where    my    fathers    died!     Land    of   the    pilgrims'   pride! 
From  ev'ry  mountain  side  let  freedom  ring! 

My  native  country,  thee,  land  of  the  noble,  free,  thy  name  I  love  ; 
I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills,  thy  woods  and  templed  hills :  my  heart 
with  rapture  thrills  like  that  above. 

Let  music  swell  the  breeze,  and  ring  from  all  the  trees  sweet 

freedom's  song: 
Let  mortal  tongues  awake ;  let  all  that  breathe  partake ;  let  rocks 

their  silence  break,  the  song  prolong. 

Our  fathers'  God  I  to  Thee,  Author  of  liberty,  to  Thee  we  sing: 
Long  may  our  land  be  bright  with  freedom's  holy  light;  protect 
us  by  Thy  might,  great  God,  our  King ! 


NEW  VERSE 

God  save  our  splendid  men,  bring  them  safe  home  again,  God 

save  our  men. 
Make  them  victorious,  patient  and  chivalrous;  they  are  so  dear 

to  us — God  save  our  men. 


AMERICA 

Our  witty  "Autocrat,"  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  once  playfully  declared  that  Mr.  Smith 
and  Mrs.  Brown  were  the  two  most  popular  poets 
in  the  United  States. 

He  had  in  mind  the  Reverend  Samuel  F.  Smith, 
to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  our  beautiful  na- 
tional anthem, — ''My  Country,  Tis  of  Thee," 
and  Mrs.  Phoebe  Hinsdale  Brown,  who  wrote  the 
famous  hymn  which  begins,  "I  love  to  steal  awhile 
away  from  every  slumbering  care." 

"America"  has  been  the  solace  of  countless  pa- 
triotic souls  for  almost  ninety  years. 

In  October  of  1908,  the  good  folk  of  Newton, 
Massachusetts,  celebrated  the  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  Mr.  Smith's  birth,  as  he  had  lived  there 
among  them  for  many  happy  years  before  he 
passed  away. 

The  song  dates  back  to  1832,  and  while  the 
"America"  of  which  the  author  wrote,  existed 
up  until  perhaps  to  fifty  years  ago,  the  "Amer- 
ica" of  to-day  is  infinitely  changed.     This  is  to 

71 


72         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

be  expected,  with  a  population  that  has  come  to 
represent  universal  humanity  more  nearly  than 
any  other  country  ever  has,  since  the  Tower  of 
Babel. 

As  late  as  the  fifties,  there  were  only  three 
street  car  lines  in  New  York,  and  these  ran  only 
once  an  hour  after  midnight.  No  ^'busses"  ever 
ran  after  that  hour,  and  as  a  majority  of  the  edi- 
tors, reporters,  and  compositors  lived  either  from 
two  to  three  and  four  miles  up  town,  or  in 
Brooklyn  and  Williamsburg,  they  walked  home 
between  midnight  and  two  in  the  morning. 

The  United  States  of  Mr.  Smith's  birth  year 
would  be  still  more  of  a  curiosity  to  us.  At  that 
time,  the  Mississippi  Valley  was  not  so  well 
known  as  the  heart  of  Africa  is  now;  and  there 
was  not  a  free  public  library  in  the  entire  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land.  Stoves  were  unknown, 
and  crockery  plates  were  seriously  objected  to, 
because  they  dulled  the  knives.  All  cooking  was 
done  before  an  open  fireplace,  and  a  New  England 
girl  was  not  allowed  to  marry,  until  she  could 
bake  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  cut  it  in  smooth,  even 
slices  while  it  was  still  warm;  not  a  bad  appren- 
ticeship to  the  art  of  the  housekeeper,  and  worthy 
of  revival  in  these  days  of  consecutive  divorce. 

When  the  future  author  of  our  national  hymn 


AMERICA  73 

first  opened  his  eyes,  it  was  upon  a  very  differ- 
ent America  in  regard  to  customs  and  manners, 
arts  and  sciences,  commerce  and  navigation,  in 
that  year  of  1808.  Samuel  Francis  Smith  was 
born  in  Boston,  October  21.  "Did  I  ever  tell 
you,"  he  once  wrote  to  a  friend,  "that  I  was  wee 
and  weakly  in  my  early  days?  But  the  begin- 
ning of  the  study  of  Latin  was  the  signal  of  my 
improvement, — a  queer  specific  for  feeble  child- 
hood, not  set  down  in  the  medical  books.  I  never 
found  a  Latin  lesson  a  task."  This  may  tax  the 
belief  of  the  lad  who  is  wrestling  with  his  first 
conjugation.  But  it  is  certain  that  this  particu- 
lar little  Smith  studied  at  the  Boston  Latin 
School,  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1829, 
at  the  age  of  21  years;  and  at  24,  graduated  from 
the  Andover  Theological  Seminary  in  1832. 

After  a  year  spent  in  editorial  labors  in  Bos- 
ton, at  twenty-six,  he  was  ordained  pastor  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church  in  Waterville,  Maine.  At 
the  same  time,  he  began  as  professor  of  modern 
languages,  in  Waterville  College,  now  known  as 
Colby  College,  which  conferred  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Divinity  upon  him.  For  eight  years 
he  performed  the  duties  of  these  two  positions. 
As  he  states,  himself,  "I  have  always  been  inter- 
ested in  the  acquisition  of  languages,  and  had 


74         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

facility  in  learning  them.  I  have  read  books  in 
fifteen  different  languages,  and  since  my  eighty- 
fifth  birthday  have  undertaken  the  Russian/* 

He  removed  to  Newton,  Massachusetts,  in 
1842,  and  became  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist 
Church.  For  twelve  years  and  a  half  he  held 
that  office.  For  seven  years  of  that  time,  he  was 
also  editor  of  the  Christian  Review,  a  quarterly, 
published  in  Boston.  Then  he  became  editorial 
secretary  of  the  American  Baptist  Missionary 
Union,  for  fifteen  years.  He  visited  Europe  in 
1875,  ^^d  travelled  for  a  year.  In  1880-1882  he 
again  visited  Europe,  and  also  Asia.  For  a  lit- 
tle over  two  years,  he  inspected  missions  of  all 
denominations,  both  in  Asia  and  in  Europe. 
After  his  return,  occasional  preaching,  literary 
pursuits  and  correspondence  kept  this  busy,  use- 
ful man  fully  occupied. 

In  1895,  the  Rev.  Samuel  M.  May,  his  old 
friend  and  Harvard  classmate,  had  written  to 
Dr.  Smith,  congratulating  him  upon  having  the 
best  health,  and  the  greatest  ability  to  work,  of 
any  of  the  four  surviving  members  of  their  class 
of  1829,  in  Harvard,  and  Dr.  Smith  had  made 
the  cheery  reply,  ''Yes,  I  am,  perhaps,  the  best 
in  health,  of  the  four  remnants.     I  am  grateful." 

''What  is  Fame?"  once  queried  Oliver  Wen- 


SAMUEL    FRANCIS    SMITH 


AMERICA  75 

dell  Holmes.  Then  in  answer  to  his  own  ques- 
tion, the  genial  doctor  replied,  "It  is  to  write  a 
hymn  which  sixty  millions  of  people  sing, — that 
is  fame."  In  referring  again,  to  his  old  friend 
and  classmate,  he  exclaimed,  "Now,  there's 
Smith,  his  name  will  be  honored  by  every  school 
child  in  the  land,  when  I  have  been  forgotten  for 
a  hundred  years.  He  wrote  'My  Country  'Tis 
of  Thee.'  If  he  had  said  'Our  Country'  the  hymn 
would  not  have  been  immortal,  but  that  'My'  was 
a  master  stroke.  Every  one  who  sings  the  song, 
at  once  feels  a  personal  ownership  in  his  native 
land.  The  Hymn  will  last  as  long  as  the  coun- 
try." 

Dr.  Holmes  had  also  been  one  of  that  famous 
Harvard  class  of  1829,  and  it  was  at  an  assem- 
blage of  the  graduates,  many  years  afterward, 
that  he  so  neatly  summed  up  the  clergyman's  ti- 
tle to  renown,  in  one  of  the  ingenious  stanzas  of 
his  celebrated  class  reunion  poem,  entitled,  "The 
Boys." 

"And  there's  a  nice  youngster  of  excellent  pith, — 
Fate  thought  to  conceal  him  by  naming  him  Smith ; 
But  he  chanted  a  song  for  the  brave  and  the  free, — 
Just  read  on  his  medal,  *My  Country'  *of  Thee' !" 

From  childhood.  Dr.  Smith  had  composed 
poetry,  and  the  story  of  the  origin  of  this  hymn 


76         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

is  from  his  own  pen,  long  years  since  the  time 
that  he  was  a  youth  of  twenty-four,  at  Andover. 

Lowell  Mason,  who  was  then  a  noted  composer, 
organist  and  choir  master,  was  much  interested 
in  some  books  which  had  been  loaned  to  him  by 
a  friend,  William  C.  Woodbridge,  of  New  York, 
a  famous  educator,  who  had  just  returned  home 
from  Germany,  where  his  mission  had  been  to 
inspect  the  public  school  system,  with  a  view  to 
adopting  any  features  of  interest  unknown  to 
our  schools  here.  He  found  that  much  atten- 
tion was  given  to  music,  in  these  schools,  and  he 
brought  back  several  of  their  music  books,  which 
contained  songs  and  music  especially  adapted 
for  children.  He  placed  them  in  the  hands  of 
Lowell  Mason.  But  having  no  knowledge  of  the 
German  Language  (its  difficulties  demand  capi- 
talization), Mr.  Mason,  in  turn,  took  them  to  a 
young  theological  student  at  Andover,  by  the 
name  of  Smith,  asking  plain  Mr.  Smith,  as  he 
was  then  known,  to  either  translate  the  German 
works,  or  to  write  new  hymns  and  songs  adapted 
to  the  German  music. 

So  it  came  about,  that  on  a  dismal  day  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1832,  the  young  student  happened  to  be 
glancing  over  these  same  German  music  books. 
Suddenly  his  attention  became  riveted  upon  one 


AMERICA  y^ 

tune  in  particular,  attracted  alike  by  its  simple 
and  natural  movement,  and  by  its  special  fitness 
for  childish  voices,  and  children's  choirs. 

Looking  at  the  German  words  at  the  foot  of 
the  page,  he  saw  that  they  were  patriotic. 
*'And  I  was  instantly  inspired,"  he  tells  us,  "to 
write  a  patriotic  hymn  of  my  own."  "Seizing  a 
scrap  of  waste  paper,  I  began  to  write,  and  in 
half  an  hour,  I  think,  the  words  stood  upon  it, 
substantially  as  they  are  sung  today.  I  did  not 
know,  at  the  time,  that  the  tune  was  the  British 
'God  Save  the  King,'  and  I  do  not  share  the  re- 
gret of  those  who  deem  it  unfortunate  that  the 
national  tune  of  Britain  and  America  should  be 
the  same."  "I  did  not  purpose  to  write  a  national 
hymn,  I  laid  the  song  aside,  and  nearly  forgot 
I  had  made  it.  Some  weeks  later,  I  sent  it  to 
Mr.  Mason,  and  on  the  following  Fourth  of  July, 
he  brought  it  out,  much  to  my  surprise,  at  a  chil- 
dren's celebration  in  the  Park  Street  Church, 
Boston."  July  Fourth,  then,  of  1832,  is  to  be 
remembered  as  the  first  time  when  this  hymn 
was  ever  sung  in  public. 

Accustomed  as  we  are,  to  the  many  portraits 
of  him  as  a  venerable  man,  it  seems  almost  dis- 
respectful to  mention  the  Reverend  Dr.  Edward 
Everett  Hale  as  being  one  of  the  children  who 


78         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

sang  on  that  memorable  occasion.  He  was  ten 
years  old  at  the  time. 

Dr.  Smith  relates  that  he  began  very  soon  to 
hear  of  the  hymn  as  being  sung  in  numerous 
schools,  at  patriotic  gatherings,  at  picnics,  and 
so  on,  from  Maine  to  Texas.  It  found  a  place 
in  the  hymn  books  of  the  various  denominations. 
It  came  back  to  him  with  variations  in  Latin  and 
in  Italian,  in  German  and  in  Swedish.  He  par- 
ticularly mentions  that  the  scenes  connected  with 
the  Civil  War  called  it  into  universal  requisition. 
The  children  who  had  learned  it  at  school  had 
become  stalwart  men  by  that  time,  and  it  nerved 
them,  in  the  hour  of  their  country's  peril.  It  was 
sung  at  meetings  held  to  encourage  volunteering 
into  the  army,  to  celebrate  victories,  to  fast  and 
pray  after  defeats,  at  soldiers'  funerals;  it  was 
sung  when  the  women  met  to  pick  lint,  and  pre- 
pare bandages  for  the  wounded,  or  to  forward 
supplies  to  the  front. 

General  Howard,  whose  own  empty  sleeve 
spoke  volumes,  once  told  the  author  of  the  hymn 
how  he  had  heard  it  on  the  battlefields,  and  in 
hospitals,  by  day  and  by  night.  How  the  poor 
mutilated  soldiers,  as  soon  as  their  wounds  were 
dressed,  had  many  times  lifted  up  their  voices  in 
harmony,   singing  yet   another   pean   for   their 


AMERICA  79 

country,  for  which  they  were  proud  to  suffer,  and 
die. 

Dr.  Smith  lived  to  hear  his  poem  sung  wher- 
ever there  were  American  hearts  to  pulsate ;  and 
was  so  deeply  honored  that  it  is  doubtful  if  he 
had  any  enemy,  an  opponent,  or  a  critic. 

Herbert  D.  Ward  writes  in  April,  1895,  ''Dear 
old  Dr.  Smith  and  I  happen  to  live  in  the  same 
town, — Newton  Centre,  Mass., — and  I  can  speak 
of  him  with  the  freedom  of  a  neighbor,  and  the 
reserve  of  an  acquaintance.  He  is  only  eighty- 
six  years  old,  and  yet  he  gives  the  impression 
of  being  about  seventy.  With  the  exception  of 
his  deafness,  he  is  as  hearty  as  he  was  forty  years 
ago.  The  simplicity  of  his  life  is  one  secret  of 
its  strength  and  beauty.  For  more  than  half  a 
century  he  has  lived  in  a  modest,  gabled  brown 
house  opposite  the  Common." 

There  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  poetic  justice  in  the 
fact  that,  on  every  school  day,  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  wave  to  the  breeze  from  the  tall  pole  in 
front  of  his  house,  and  that  the  words  of  his 
own  immortal  song  easily  and  often  find  their 
way,  in  children's  voices,  across  the  Common,  the 
street  and  the  little  front  yard,  to  the  very  heart 
of  their  birth. 

"I  wrotQ  the  hymn  to  suit  the  metre,"  Dr.  Smith 


8o          OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

had  said,  in  explaining  how  he  happened,  quite 
unconsciously,  to  annex  that  part  of  the  British 
possessions  represented  by  the  melody  of  their 
national  anthem,  ''God  Save  the  King."  Yet 
perhaps  he  only  followed  in  their  own  footsteps, 
for  the  history  of  this  air  might  well  be  called, 
''The  Story  of  a  Tune  on  Its  Travels."  It  has 
created  endless  discussion,  has  masqueraded  in 
more  shapes,  and  has  been  put  to  the  most  diverse 
uses,  by  more  civilized  nations,  than  perhaps  ever 
happened  to  any  one  other  single  melody. 

The  French  author,  Jules  Combarieu,  claims 
that  national  hymns  originated  with  the  peoples 
of  the  north,  and  are  of  comparatively  recent 
date.  They  did  not  exist  during  the  Middle  Ages, 
but  appeared  with  the  formation  of  modern  states. 
He  explains  that  they  are  not,  properly  speak- 
ing, works  of  art,  but  the  fruit  of  politics  and 
patriotism — the  outcome  of  circumstances. 

In  Geneva,  Kling  maintains  that  the  English 
Royal  Hymn  was  taken  from  the  national  Swiss 
hymn,  written  to  celebrate  the  victory  of  the  an- 
cient republic  of  Geneva  over  the  troops  of  the 
Duke  of  Savoy,  as  far  back  as  1602,  and  that  it 
was  sung  for  the  first  time  in  1603,  at  the  anni- 
versary festival. 

Some  years  later,  the  melody  appeared  in  Eng- 


AMERICA  8i 

land,  where  it  was  sung  in  honor  of  James  I, 
after  an  arrangement  by  the  celebrated  harpsi- 
chordist, Dr.  John  Bull,  who  lived  from  1523 
to  1628.  There  was  such  an  air,  dated  1619. 
But  while  it  resembles  the  modern  tune,  it  is  in  a 
minor  key,  and  is  what  linguists  would  term,  ''a 
free  translation/' 

A  German  writer,  E.  Handtmann,  undertakes 
to  prove  that  the  melody  of  the  English  hymn 
was  taken  from  an  old  song  of  pilgrims,  in  Silesia, 
which  they  themselves  probably  took  from  an  ob- 
solete liturgical  chant. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it 
was  worked  over  by  the  composer  Lully,  into  a 
French  patriotic  song  for  the  express  glorification 
of  Le  Grand  Monarque,  Louis  XIV.  His  was 
the  longest  reign  that  ever  king  had, — seventy- 
seven  years, — and  he  was  sick  and  weary  of  it, 
long  before  it  ended,  in  spite  of  his  untamable 
pride.  This  French  claim  to  the  music  is  sup- 
ported by  three  nuns  of  the  convent  of  St.  Cyr, 
Chartres,  who  testified  to  the  existence  of  the 
tune  at  that  convent  during  the  last  century. 

Later  on,  the  motive  was  taken  by  Handel  for 
a  song  to  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  who  became 
King  George  I  of  England,  on  the  very  sudden 
and  unexpected  death  of  Queen  Anne,  with  whom 


82         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Handel  had  also  been  a  great  favorite,  as  indeed 
he  was  with  all  English  music  lovers. 

This  air  was  tossed  back  and  forth,  from  coun- 
try to  country,  much  like  a  musical  shuttle-cock, 
until  it  came  at  last  to  a  definite  rest  among  Eng- 
lish-speaking people;  where  it  then  appeared  as 
a  prayer  for  the  glory  and  happiness  of  the  sov- 
ereign. And  while  authorities  disagree,  as  us- 
ual, there  seems  scarcely  a  reasonable  doubt  that 
the  great  English  national  anthem  was  written, 
as  it  now  stands,  in  its  entirety,  by  Henry  Carey, 
the  composer  of  that  famous  ditty,  ''Sally  in  Our 
Alley."  Mr.  Carey  had  the  unusual  experience 
of  having  lived  in  six  reigns,  that  is,  from  the 
reign  of  Charles  II  to  George  II.  This  very  un- 
fortunate genius  finally  committed  suicide,  after 
a  life  of  nearly  eighty  years. 

The  song  which  has  done  so  much  to -render 
loyalty  to  the  throne  a  sort  of  inherited  instinct 
with  the  English  people,  was  first  heard  at  a 
tavern  in  Cornhill,  in  1740,  at  a  dinner  party 
given  in  celebration  of  the  capture  of  Porto  Bello, 
by  Admiral  Vernon,  on  November  20th,  1739, 
— England  being  busily  at  war  with  Spain  at  the 
time.  It  was  called,  "God  Save  Great  George, 
Our  King,"  the  singer  being  Henry  Carey,  who, 
after  being  heartily  applauded,  announced  that 


AMERICA  83 

both  words  and  music  were  of  his  own  produc- 
tion. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, Carey  was  so  popular  a  composer  and  dram- 
atist that  his  plays  drew  crowded  audiences  to 
the  theatres.  Beside  these,  he  wrote  numerous 
songs  and  cantatas. 

It  is  declared  that  ''God  Save  the  King"  has 
been  worth  more  to  the  sovereigns  of  Great  Brit- 
ain than  all  the  diamonds  of  the  royal  regalia, 
not  even  excepting  the  great  Kohinoor,  for  it  has 
strengthened  the  bonds  of  fidelity  to  the  crown, 
over  and  over  again,  in  times  of  danger,  and  has 
added  fervor  to  the  patriotism  of  more  peaceful 
days. 

In  1760,  a  Bavarian  lutist  arranged  the  air  for 
his  instrument,  a  work  found  in  the  Germanic 
Museum  of  Nuremberg;  in  1766  we  find  it  in  a 
song  book  of  the  Holland  Free  Masons,  published 
in  the  Hague.  In  1790  it  entered  Denmark, 
Heinrich  Harries  (i  762-1 802)  published  it  with 
the  following  title:  "A  song  to  be  sung  by  the 
Danish  subjects  at  the  Fete  of  their  King,  to  the 
melody  of  the  English  Hymn."  In  Bavaria,  in 
Saxony,  in  Wiirtemburg,  in  a  word  in  all  the 
Anglo-Saxon  countries,  the  melody  spread,  more 
or  less  altered. 


84         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

"My  Country,  'Tis  of  Thee/'  was  not  the  only 
arrangement  of  the  fine  old  melody,  on  this  side 
of  the  water.  Several  other  sets  of  patriotic 
verses  had  previously  been  adapted  to  it.  Even 
while  fighting  the  mother  country  with  might  and 
main,  America  was  not  in  the  least  averse  to  using 
the  English  national  anthem  as  her  own,  feeling 
keenly  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  ''Happy  is  the 
nation  which  has  a  good  song,  and  a  good  tune 
on  the  side  of  law  and  order." 

In  relating  the  exploits  of  the  ''Rough  Riders," 
both  Colonel  Roosevelt  and  Edward  Marshall 
mention  a  very  touching  incident  in  connection 
with  "America,"  that  occurred  at  the  improvised 
open-air  hospital,  after  the  fight  at  Las  Guasimas. 
Imagine  a  hospital  without  even  a  tent  to  cover 
it.  The  wounded  men  lay  sheltered  beneath  the 
spreading  branches  of  a  mango  tree,  there  in  the 
wilderness.  Most  of  them  had  only  the  canvas 
halves  of  shelter  tents  to  protect  them  from  the 
wet  grass ;  only  a  few  had  blankets  to  lie  upon. 

Some  dreadful  operations  had  to  be  performed 
in  that  little  hospital  in  the  woods ;  and  as  human 
nature  has  limits,  it  is  small  wonder  that  some 
few  of  the  men  who  had  stood  their  sufifering  with 
calm  patience,  and  without  any  complaint,  were 
by  this  time,  so  strained  and  nerve  racked,  that  it 
was  impossible  for  them  to  control  themselves  any 


AMERICA  85 

longer;  and  the  poor  fellows  groaned  uncannily. 
Most  of  them  were  badly  wounded;  some  were 
looking  forward  to  amputation  of  their  arms  and 
legs,  with  what  fortitude  they  were  able  to  com- 
mand; and  some  were  staring  death  in  the  face. 

Edward  Marshall, — though  a  war  correspond- 
ent, not  a  soldier, — was  nevertheless  so  terribly 
injured,  that  when  first  succored,  on  the  battle- 
field, it  was  not  thought  worth  while  to  even  dress 
his  wound;  as  the  overworked  surgeons  consid- 
ered it  could  not  be  otherwise  than  mortal.  He 
confesses,  himself,  that  he  was  simply  waiting 
for  the  end;  when  with  startling  suddenness  one 
of  their  number  began  to  sing: 

"My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty. 
Of  thee  we  sing." 

Just  here,  Mr.  Marshall  says,  he  and  Captain 
James  McClintock  joined  in,  and  the  trembling 
song  went  on,  interrupted  by  the  pitiful  groans  of 
those  who  were  in  mortal  pain.  He  declares  that 
"Probably  no  song  was  ever  sung  more  earnestly ; 
certainly  no  words  were  ever  uttered  which  cost 
more  effort  to  some  of  us  than  those  did."  For, 
as  he  repeats,  "It  was  a  doleful  little  group  of 
hurt  Americans,  off  there  under  a  tree,  in  the 
midst  of  the  Cuban  solitude ;  and  nothing  seemed 


86         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

so  dear  to  us,  just  then,  as  the  homes  which  we 
might  never  see  again,  and  the  country  which 
some  of  us  had  left  behind  forever." 

He  goes  on  to  tell  us,  that  by  and  by,  he  noticed 
one  voice  faltered  and  lagged  behind,  after  all  the 
rest  had  finished  the  line, 

"Let  freedom  ring." 

Yet  still  that  voice  went  on,  though  struggling 
and  growing  fainter; 

'Land — of — the — Pilgrims' — pride — 
Let  freedom — " 

and  then, — silence.  For  ''one  more  son  had  died, 
as  died  the  fathers." 

As  history  but  repeats  itself,  posterity  will  find 
no  more  fitting  words  than  those  uttered  by  Gen- 
eral Pershing  in  his  Thanksgiving  address  to  his 
gallant  companions-in-arms,  albeit  some  twenty 
years  had  elapsed  since  that  trying  Cuban  cam- 
paign. 

''Victory  was  our  goal,"  said  the  American 
Commander-in-chief.  "It  is  a  hard-won  gift  of 
the  soldier,  to  his  country.  Only  the  soldier 
knows  the  cost  of  a  gift  we  now  present  to  the 
Nation." 


COLUMBIA,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  OCEAN 


COLUMBIA,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  OCEAN 

O  Columbia,  the  gem  of  the  ocean, 

The  home  of  the  brave  and  the  free, 
The  shrine  of  each  patriot's  devotion, 

A  world  offers  homage  to  thee. 
Thy  mandates  make  heroes  assemble, 

When  Liberty's  form  stands  in  view; 
Thy  banners  make  tyranny  tremble, 

When  borne  by  the  red,  white  and  blue; 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
Thy  banners  make  tyranny  tremble, 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white  and  blue. 

When  war  winged  its  wide  desolation, 

And  threatened  the  land  to  deform. 

The  ark  then  of  freedom's  foundation, 

Columbia,  rode  safe  thro'  the  storm: 

With  the  garlands  of  vict'ry  around  her. 

When  so  proudly  she  bore  her  brave  crew, 
With  her  flag  proudly  floating  before  her. 
The  boast  of  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
The  boast  of  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
The  boast  of  the  red,  white  and  blue. 
With  her  flag  proudly  floating  before  her, 
The  boast  of  the  red,  white  and  blue. 

The  star-spangled  banner  bring  hither. 

O'er  Columbia's  true  sons  let  it  wave; 
May  the  wreaths  they  have  won  never  wither, 

Nor  its  stars  cease  to  shine  on  the  brave: 
May  the  service,  united,  ne'er  sever, 

But  hold  to  their  colors  so  true; 
The  army  and  navy  forever, 

Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white  and  blue; 
Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white  and  blue, 
The  army  and  navy  forever, 
Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white  and  blue. 


COLUMBIA,  THE  GEM  OF  THE  OCEAN 

No  Fourth  of  July  would  be  complete,  nor 
would  any  other  patriotic  occasion  be  entirely 
satisfying,  without  'Three  cheers  for  the  Red, 
White,  and  Blue/'  It  is  the  great  standby  of  the 
American  people  for  national  festivities  of  every 
sort  and  description. 

Singing,  as  it  does,  the  praises  of  both  branches 
of  the  service,  it  is  often  called  the  Army  and 
Navy  Song.  For  that  reason,  it  is  peculiarly 
appropriate,  when  both  sea  and  land  forces  are 
taking  part  in  a  martial  celebration. 

While  it  is  popularly  known  as  'The  Red, 
White,  and  Blue,"  its  correct  name  is,  ''Columbia, 
the  Gem  of  the  Ocean" ;  and  it  was  first  sung  in 
the   Chestnut   Street   Theater,   Philadelphia,   in 

1843. 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  this  second  song  of 
the  flag  was  written  in  the  same  year  in  which 
Francis  Scott  Key  died,  in  Washington,  D.  C. 
Therefore  it  belongs  to  what  may  be  called  the 
first  generation  of  National  Ballads,  along  with 

89 


90         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

''Hail  Columbia,"  'The  Star-Spangled  Banner," 
and  "America." 

In  England,  the  melody  is  known  as  ''Britannia, 
the  Pride  of  the  Ocean" ;  consequently,  the  name 
of  Nelson  replaces  that  of  our  national  hero, 
Washington. 

Uncle  Sam  may  not  be  rated  as  highly  musical 
among  the  great  family  of  nations ;  nevertheless, 
he  knows  a  good  tune  wherever  he  hears  one ;  and 
there  is  no  denying  that  there  have  been  occa- 
sions when  "What  he  thought  he  would  require, 
he  simply  took,"  and  the  incident  was  closed. 
Some  critics  contend  that  we  purloined  this  par- 
ticular melody;  and  they  point  out  that  it  would 
be  foolish  to  speak  of  a  continent  three  thousand 
miles  broad,  and  bounded  on  two  of  its  sides  by 
land,  as  the  "Gem  of  the  Ocean."  They  contend 
that  such  a  title  would  apply  more  fitly  to  an 
island  kingdom  like  Great  Britain. 

Even  our  own  Rear-Admiral  Preble  adds  a  dis- 
approving note,  to  the  effect  that  the  ranking 
order  of  our  colors  is  first  blue  (of  the  union), 
then  red,  and  lastly,  white.  Whereas,  Great  Brit- 
ain's flag  might  easily  answer  to  the  description 
"Red,  White,  and  Blue." 

They  forget  that  poetic  license  is  very  elastic, 
and  possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law.     Albeit, 


COLUMBIA  91 

the  authorship  of  this  song  has  given  rise  to  con- 
siderable, and  to  rather  heated,  discussion. 

Mr.  W.  H.  Grattan  Flood  believes  the  English 
version  goes  back  to  1842;  and  was  written  by 
Stephen  B.  Meany,  and  set  to  music  by  Thomas 
E.  Williams.  Also,  that  it  was  a  year  or  two 
later,  before  it  was  transformed  into  "Columbia, 
the  Gem  of  the  Ocean."  Many  editions  give  it  as 
the  work  of  David  T.  Shaw.* 

Yet  it  is  more  likely  we  came  by  the  tune  hon- 
estly; the  weight  of  evidence  seeming  to  rest  in 
favor  of  Thomas  a'Becket,  a  talented  musician 
and  actor,  of  English  birth,  long  resident  in  Phila- 
delphia, who  states  his  claims  clearly,  in  a  letter 
written  to  Rear-Admiral  Preble,  dated  December 
16,  1876. 

He  goes  on  to  say  that  in  the  fall  of  the  year 
1843,  while  engaged  as  an  actor  at  the  Chestnut 
Street  Theater,  in  Philadelphia,  he  received  a  call 
from  Mr.  D.  T.  Shaw,  who  was  then  singing  at 
the  Chinese  Museum.  Mr.  Shaw  was  about  to 
have  a  benefit  performance ;  and  the  object  of  his 
call  was  to  request  Mr.  a'Becket  to  write  a  song 
expressly  for  that  benefit  night.  He  had  brought 
with  him  for  that  purpose,  some  patriotic  verses, 
of  which  he  asked  the  opinion  of  Mr.  a'Becket; 
this  same  being  far  from  flattering.     For  in  Mr. 


92          OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

a'Becket's  judgment,  these  lines  were  not  only 
ungrammatical,  but  so  deficient  in  measure,  as  to 
be  totally  unfit  for  adaption  to  music. 

However,  the  men  adjourned  to  the  house  of  a 
friend,  Mr.  R.  Harford,  on  Decatur  Street;  and 
there,  Mr.  a'Becket  wrote  the  two  first  verses,  in 
pencil;  and  composed  the  melody,  seated  at  Miss 
Harford's  piano.  On  reaching  home,  he  added 
the  third  verse,  wrote  the  introductory  and  ter- 
minating portions,  made  a  fair  copy,  in  ink,  and 
gave  it  to  Mr.  Shaw,  with  the  earnest  request,  at 
the  same  time,  that  Mr.  Shaw  should  neither  give, 
nor  sell,  a  copy  of  the  work. 

Mr.  Shaw,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  did  not  see 
fit  to  respect  his  friend's  wishes  in  the  matter.  A 
few  weeks  later,  when  Mr.  a'Becket  left  Philadel- 
phia, for  New  Orleans,  he  was  unpleasantly  sur- 
prised to  see  a  published  copy  of  the  song,  enti- 
tled, ''Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean" ;  written, 
composed,  and  sung  by  David  T.  Shaw,  and  ar- 
ranged by  T.  a'Becket,  Esq. 

On  Mr.  a'Becket's  return  to  Philadelphia,  he 
called  upon  the  publisher  of  the  song,  Mr.  Willig; 
who  said  he  had  purchased  the  song  from  Mr. 
Shaw.  Mr.  a'Becket  then  produced  the  original 
copy  in  pencil,  and  claimed  ownership  of  the  copy- 
right; which  Mr.  Willig  admitted,  but  at  the  same 


COLUMBIA  93 

time  he  made  some  justly  severe  comments  upon 
Mr.  Shaw's  conduct. 

The  author  then  made  a  contract  with  Mr.  T. 
Osborn,  of  Third  Street,  above  Walnut,  to  pub- 
lish the  song  in  partnership.  Within  a  week,  it 
appeared  under  its  proper  inscription,  that  is, — 
"Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean,  written  and 
composed  by  T.  a'Becket,  and  sung  by  D.  T. 
Shaw." 

Mr.  a'Becket  further  remarks  that  Mr.  E.  L. 
Davenport,  an  eminent  actor  of  the  time,  sang  the 
song  nightly,  for  some  weeks.  In  this  way,  it 
became  extremely  popular;  and  was  published, 
without  any  authority  by  T.  Williams,  Cheapside, 
under  the  title,  ''Britannia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean." 
So  that  when  the  author  visited  London  in  1847, 
still  another  unwelcome  surprise  awaited  him; 
for  he  found  the  song  claimed  this  time,  as  an 
English  composition.  'Terhaps  it  is,"  he  admits 
wanly,  "I,  being  an  Englishman  by  birth." 

Ill-luck  seems  to  have  pursued  the  author- 
composer.  During  this  absence  from  the  land  of 
his  adoption,  his  publisher,  Mr.  Osborn,  failed  in 
business,  and  the  plates  of  the  song  were  sold  to 
a  Mr.  Benteen,  of  Baltimore.  "And  in  this  way," 
concludes  Mr.  a'Becket  sadly,  "it  went  entirely 
out  of  my  possession;  much  to  my  regret  and 
loss." 


94         OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Singularly  enough,  two  of  our  national  ballads, 
"Hail  Columbia,"  and  "Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the 
Ocean,"  were  written  by  residents  of  the  City  of 
Brotherly  Love; — written,  on  both  occasions,  by 
obliging  friends,  to  help  out  actor-acquaintances, 
who  were  each  about  to  have  benefit  perform- 
ances. But  with  this  difference,  that  Judge  Jo- 
seph Hopkinson,  in  1798,  was  a  life-long  favorite 
of  Fortune,  did  not  suffer  the  same  injustice,  at 
the  hands  of  his  beneficiary,  as  did  Mr.  a'Becket, 
in  1843.  Although,  perhaps  the  virtue  which 
consists  in  giving  to  everyone  precisely  what  is  his 
due,  might  concede  that  the  idea  and  the  name  of 
the  song  probably  originated  with  David  T.  Shaw, 
and  that  at  his  suggestion,  the  words  and  music 
were  written  by  Mr.  a'Becket. 

Linking  the  present  with  the  past,  comes  news 
of  the  death  of  Thomas  a'Becket,  Jr.,  also  a  Phila- 
delphian;  and  a  veteran  music-teacher,  who  had 
just  completed  the  forty-fifth  year  of  his  connec- 
tion with  Girard  College.  This  is  an  unusual 
record  of  service,  and  speaks  for  itself;  yet  it  was 
but  one  of  his  manifold  activities. 

For  many  years,  he  was  connected  with  the  edi- 
torial departments  of  various  publishing  firms; 
and  the  editor-in-chief  of  a  leading  musical  jour- 
nal writes,  that  he  had  a  number  of  talks  with  Mr. 


COLUMBIA  95 

a'Becket,  Jr.,  on  the  subject  of  this  national  song; 
particularly  in  regard  to  the  question  of  its  au- 
thenticity. He  mentions  the  statement  that  it 
was  originally  called  ''Britannia,  the  Gem  of  the 
Ocean,"  and  also  the  assertion  about  its  being 
printed  six  months  in  advance  of  ''Columbia,  the 
Gem  of  the  Ocean." 

But  in  concluding,  he  repeats,  "I  do  not  think, 
however,  that  this  claim  was  ever  successfully 
sustained.  And  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  ]\Ir. 
a'Becket's  father  was  the  author  of  'Columbia, 
the  Gem  of  the  Ocean/  " 


DIXIE 


DIXIE  LAND 

Dan.  Emmet. 
I  wish  I  was  In  de  land  ob  cotton, 
Old  times  dar  am  not  forgotten, 

Look  away!  Look  away!  Look  away!  Dixie  Land. 
In  Dixie  Land  whar'  I  was  born  in, 
Early  on  one  frosty  mornin', 
Look  away !  etc. 

CHORUS 

Den  I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie,  Hoo-ray !  Hoo-ray! 

In  Dixie  Land,  I'll  take  my  stand  to  lib  and  die  in  Dixie 

Away,  away,  away  down  south  in  Dixie, 

Away,  away,  away  down  south  in  Dixie. 

Old  Missus  marry  Will,  de  weaber, 
Willium  was  a  gay  deceaber; 

Look  away!  etc. 
But  when  he  put  his  arm  around  'er 
He  smiled  as  fierce  as  a  forty  pounder, 

Look  away!  etc. 

His  face  was  sharp  as  a  butcher's  cleaber, 
But  dat  did  not  seem  to  greab  'er ; 

Look  away!  etc., 
Old  Missus  acted  the  foolish  part, 
And  died  for  a  man  dat  broke  her  heart, 

Look  away !  etc. 

Now  here's  a  health  to  the  next  old  Missus, 
And  all  de  gals  dat  want  to  kiss  us; 

Look  away!  etc. 
But  if  you  want  to  drive  'way  sorrow. 
Come  and  hear  dis  song  to-morrow. 

Look  away!  etc. 

Dar's  buckwheat  cakes  an'  Ingen'  batter. 
Makes  you  fat  or  a  little  fatter; 

Look  away!  etc. 
Den  hoe  it  down  and  scratch  your  grabble, 
To  Dixie's  land  I'm  bound  to  trabble. 

Look  away!  etc. 


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FACSIMILE    OF   AN    AUTHORS    COPY   OF    "DIXIE" 
Reproduced  throug-h  the  courtesy  of  Alexander  Hill 


DIXIE 

Both  "Dixie"  and  its  Northern  competitor, 
''John  Brown's  Body/'  were  first  sung  by  soldiers 
during  the  Civil  War,  and  there  is  no  gainsaying 
the  mighty  influence  they  exerted  upon  the  hear- 
ers as  well  as  the  singers.  Now  everybody  sings 
"Dixie,"  as  it  is  one  of  the  really  popular  songs 
of  America  which  touched  the  right  chord,  and 
still  holds  it.  It  has  been  pronounced  the  best 
military  tune  that  we  have.  Yet  not  every  one 
is  familiar  with  the  story  of  this  song,  which  is 
practically  the  only  bit  of  war  music  that  has 
outlived  the  Southern  Confederacy. 

Written  by  a  negro  minstrel  who  was  a  white 
man,  loved  by  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  by  many  of 
the  Northern  soldiers,  albeit  it  was  one  of  the 
battlesongs  of  the  Confederacy;  originating  in 
the  North,  and  appropriated  as  a  war  ballad  of 
the  South,  the  rival,  for  a  time,  of  even  "Yankee 
Doodle,"  the  story  of  "Dixie"  is  somewhat  of  a 
paradox,  "from  end  to  beginning"  as  an  ingen- 
ious German  puts  it. 

Authorities  disagree  over  even  the  derivation 

99 


lOO        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

of  the  word.  Of  this  much  we  are  sure. 
''Dixie"  or  "Dixie's  Land"  is  a  term  which  came 
by  a  popular  error,  to  be  identified  with  the  South 
and  Southern  institutions  during  the  Civil  War. 

It  seems  that  when  slavery  existed  in  New 
York,  there  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Dixie, 
who  owned  a  large  tract  of  land  on  Manhattan 
Island,  before  the  word  ''sky-scraper"  had  been 
invented.  This  Dixie  was  a  large  slave-holder. 
The  rapid  increase  of  the  slaves,  and  the  growing 
strength  of  the  Abolition  sentiment  combined, 
caused  him  to  ship  his  slaves  to  the  Southern 
States,  to  more  secure  slave  sections,  where  the 
negroes  had  to  work  much  harder,  and  fare 
worse.  It  was  natural  that  those  who  had  thus 
been  sent  off,  should  look  back  to  their  old  homes, 
where  many  of  them  had  been  born,  with  feelings 
of  keenest  regret.  And  as  they  could  not  imagine 
any  place  that  was  better  than  Dixie's,  it  grew  to 
represent  a  paradise  on  earth,  which  they  cele- 
brated in  their  songs. 

"Seventy  years  ago,"  relates  a  veteran  New 
Yorker,  "no  one  ever  heard  of  'Dixie's  Land' 
being  other  than  Manhattan  Island,  until  after- 
wards, when  it  w^as  erroneously  supposed  to  refer 
to  the  South,  from  its  connection  with  pathetic 
negro  allegory."     The  exiled  slaves,  sighing  for 


DIXIE  loi 

the  old  home  which  imagination  and  distance  had 
advanced  into  a  Delectable  Country,  showed  the 
first  symptoms  of  that  highly  contagious  disease 
since  known  as  "New  Yorkitis." 

In  the  South,  ''Dixie"  is  regarded  as  meaning 
the  Southern  States, — principally  in  connection 
with  the  Mason  and  Dixon  line,  between  the  free 
and  the  slave  states.  As  far  back  as  1763,  two 
English  mathematicians  and  surveyors — Charles 
Mason  and  Jeremiah  Dixon,  were  employed  by 
Lord  Baltimore  and  William  Penn  to  establish 
the  boundary  line  between  Maryland  and  Penn- 
sylvania. 

However,  it  was  the  phrase  originating  in  New 
York,  that  developed  into  a  song,  or  rather  into 
many  songs,  of  which  the  refrain  usually  con- 
tained the  word  ''Dixie,"  or  "Dixie's  Land." 
And  from  these  rude  chants,  eventually  developed 
the  melody  that  for  a  time  bade  fair  to  surpass 
all  others. 

The  report  has  circulated  in  the  South,  that 
the  composer  was  himself  a  negro,  which  is  a 
mistake,  of  course.  But  the  man  who  wrote 
"Dixie"  was  the  originator  of  negro  minstrel  per- 
formances. 

Daniel  Decatur  Emmett,  listed  as  an  American 
actor,  and  song  writer,  was  born  in  18 15,  at  Mt. 


102        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Vernon,  Ohio.  As  a  boy,  he  learned  the  printer's 
trade,  but  abandoned  it  to  join  the  regular  army, 
as  fifer  in  the  regimental  band.  Being  under  age, 
his  father  promptly  took  him  out  of  the  army. 

Then  he  ran  away  from  his  home,  and  went 
with  the  Spalding  and  Rogers  circus.  At  twenty, 
in  1835,  he  became  a  member  of  Oscar  Brown's 
Circus  Company.  About  this  time,  when  living 
in  New  York,  he  is  said  to  have  entertained  a 
musical  club  to  which  he  belonged,  by  blacking 
his  face  and  hands  with  burnt  cork,  and  inter- 
spersing his  coon  songs  with  jokes.  It  was  thus 
the  ''negro  minstrel"  came  into  existence. 

The  novelty  once  introduced,  Mr.  Emmett  and 
his  talents  were  in  inordinate  demand.  So  much 
so,  that  in  1842,  together  with  Frank  Brown, 
William  Whitlock  and  Richard  Phelan,  he 
formed  what  was  known  as  the  Virginia  Min- 
strels, which  was,  of  course,  the  very  first  negro 
minstrel  company  on  record.  Its  first  appear- 
ance was  at  the  old  Chatham  Square  Theatre, 
New  York  City,  February  17th,  1843. 

Subsequently,  the  company  appeared  in  Boston, 
and  in  England,  where  Emmett  was  wildly  ap- 
plauded, and  remained  until  1844. 

After  his  return  to  this  country,  he  was  with 
Dan  Bryant  at  No.  472  Broadway,  New  York, 


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DANIEL   DECATUR    EMMETT 


DIXIE  103 

from  1858  until  1861.  It  was  during  his  engage- 
ment with  this  Bryant  Company  that  he  wrote, 
in  1859,  the  now  famous  song  "Dixie,"  which  was 
first  produced  at  Mechanic's  Hall.  He  said,  him- 
self, that  he  wrote  the  song  to  order,  one  rainy 
Sunday  in  1859. 

It  seems  that  on  the  preceding  Saturday  night, 
the  manager  having  charge  of  Mr.  Emmett's  per- 
formances came  to  him,  and  imperatively  de- 
manded a  new  'Svalk  around"  for  the  following 
Monday  night.  And  ''Dixie"  was  accordingly 
dashed  off,  the  next  day,  Sunday.  By  a  singular 
chance,  ''Hail  Columbia,"  was  also  composed  at 
speed  and  under  pressure,  on  the  Sabbath  day. 
Whether  our  two  minds,  the  conscious  and  sub- 
conscious, are  in  better  working  order  during  that 
special  twenty-four  hours,  or  whether  the  power 
of  evil  takes  that  time  to  tempt  us  from  religious 
observance,  is  a  question,  but  we  will  leave  it  to 
the  psychologists  and  theologians  to  discuss. 

In  an  article  on  the  "Songs  of  the  War,"  writ- 
ten some  years  ago,  Mr.  Brander  Matthews  ex- 
plains that  Emmett,  having  traveled  so  long  with 
circuses,  had  often  heard  his  fellow  performers 
refer  to  the  states  south  of  the  Mason  and  Dixon 
line  as  "Dixie's  Land,"  very  earnestly  wishing 
themselves  there,  as  soon  as  the  northern  climate 


I04        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

began  to  be  too  frosty  and  severe  for  those  who 
live  in  tents  Hke  the  Arabs.  It  was  upon  this 
plaint  of  the  northern  circus  performers,  "1  wish 
I  was  in  Dixie,"  that  Mr.  Emmett  built  the  song 
that  was  destined  to  become  ^so  famous  as  the 
distinctive  Confederate  war  song,  somewhat  as 
Edgar  Allan  Poe  is  said  to  have  woven  the  verses 
of  his  celebrated  ''Raven"  about  the  single  word 
''Nevermore." 

The  freshly  composed  "walk  around"  made  so 
great  a  hit  with  the  New  York  play-going  public, 
that  the  composer's  name  was  made.  "Dixie" 
was  adopted  at  once  by  various  bands  of  wander- 
ing minstrels,  who  sang  and  danced  it,  in  all  parts 
of  the  Union.  It  took  a  particularly  firm  root  in 
New  Orleans,  when,  in  the  fall  of  i860,  Mrs. 
John  Wood  sang  it  in  Brougham's  burlesque  of 
"Pocahontas."  A  New  Orleans  publisher,  with- 
out any  authority  from  the  composer,  had  the  air 
arranged  and  harmonized.  And  he  issued  it,  still 
without  consulting  the  composer,  with  w^ords  em- 
bodying the  strong  Southern  feeling  of  the  chief 
city  of  Louisiana. 

Mr.  Matthews  makes  the  comment  that,  just  as 
from  Boston,  "John  Brown's  Body,"  spread 
through  the  North,  so  from  New  Orleans,  did 
"Dixie"    spread    throughout    the    South.     And 


DIXIE  105 

where,  shortly  after,  the  South  went  to  war,  her 
soldiers  caught  it  up,  sang  it  in  camp,  and  on  the 
march,  charged  and  died  to  its  melody.  And  as 
the  poets  of  the  North  strove  to  find  fit  words  for 
the  ''John  Brown"  air,  so  the  Southern  verse 
makers  wrote  fiery  lines  to  fit  the  measures  of  the 
other. 

A  strange  thing,  that,  by  accident,  a  rollicking 
plantation  jingle  should  come  into  such  stern  mar- 
tial usage.  And  that  the  first  actual  bloodshed  of 
the  Civil  War  should  occur  on  the  19th  of  April, 
the  very  anniversary  of  the  bloodshed  that  ush- 
ered in  the  War  for  Independence,  at  the  Battle 
of  Lexington,  the  day  of  1861,  when  the  Sixth 
Massachusetts  regiment  was  attacked  by  a  mob, 
while  passing  through  Baltimore,  and  several 
men  killed.  It  was  a  time  of  sad  chaos  in  the 
land,  of  brother  against  brother.  Yet,  as  it  was 
firmly  maintained  by  the  Government  that  the  tie 
that  binds  the  United  States  is  one  that  cannot  be 
severed,  no  star  was  taken  from  the  flag  during 
the  long  period  of  conflict  from  1861  to  1865,  al- 
though over  most  of  the  Southern  states,  the  flags 
of  the  Confederacy  floated  triumphantly  for  those 
four  years. 

In  the  campaign  of  i860,  ''Dixie"  had  been 
used  as  a  political  song;  and  one  of  his  historians 


io6        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

ventures  the  suggestion  that  it  was  perhaps  some 
vague  remembrance  of  that  closely  contested  elec- 
tion which  prompted  Lincoln  to  have  this  particu- 
lar air  played  by  a  band  in  Washington,  in  1865,  a 
short  time  after  the  surrender  at  Appomattox. 
He  remarked  at  the  time,  that  ''as  we  had  cap- 
tured the  rebel  army,  we  had  also  captured  the 
rebel  tune/'  Poor  Lincoln,  harried  by  friends 
and  foes  alike,  no  one  had  greater  need  of  a  keen 
sense  of  humor  to  help  him  over  the  rough  places, 
yet  after  his  untimely  death,  one  of  his  severest 
critics  could  write,  ''never  before  did  one  so  con- 
stantly and  visibly  grow,  under  the  discipline  of 
incessant  cares,  anxieties  and  trials.  Had  he 
lived  twenty  years  longer,  I  believe  he  would  have 
steadily  increased  in  ability  to  counsel  his  coun- 
trymen." 

The  composer  of  "Dixie"  became,  during  the 
same  year,  an  independent  manager.  In  1878, 
he  returned  to  his  old  home  at  Mt.  Vernon,  Ohio. 
He  seems  to  have  retained  his  youthful  vigor  until 
late  in  life,  as  shown  by  this  newspaper  item  of  a 
few  years  ago.  "Dan  Emmett,  the  minstrel,  fa- 
mous as  the  author  of  'Dixie,'  is  making  a  tour 
of  the  South,  with  a  minstrel  troupe,  and  takes 
part  in  every  performance,  although  he  is  more 
than  eighty  years  old." 


DAN"    EMMETT,    IN    OLD   AGE 


DIXIE  107 

He  was  the  author  of  many  other  oldtime  fa- 
vorite songs.  Scores  of  such  popular  melodies 
as  ''Old  Dan  Tucker''  were  composed  by  him,  and 
the  next  day  were  in  everybody's  mouth;  for  he 
seemed  to  understand  the  popular  taste  to  a 
nicety.  His  publications  also  include  the  songs, 
''Boatman's  Daughter,"  "The  Road  to  Rich- 
mond," "Walk  Along  John,"  and  "Early  in 
the  Morning."  He  should  have  been  comfort- 
ably wealthy,  but  for  years  before  he  died,  he 
had  ceased  to  receive  any  income  from  his  com- 
positions. 

And  though  one  fortune  after  another  is  said 
to  have  passed  through  his  hands,  it  did  pass; 
leaving  his  later  years  to  be  spent  in  very  strait- 
ened circumstances.  But  he  did  not  actually  suf- 
fer, as  he  had  kind  friends  who  helped  to  supply 
his  few  and  simple  wants. 

He  lived  until  1904,  to  the  age  of  eighty-nine 
years,  and  now  lies  in  the  beautiful  Mound  View 
Cemetery,  Mt.  Vernon,  on  a  knoll  overlooking  the 
Kokosing  River. 

While  there  are  musicians  who  contemptuously 
say  that  "Dixie"  is  "poor  music,"  no  one  can  dis- 
pute the  fact  that  the  song  was  a  tremendous 
power  on  the  battlefield,  and  continues  to  be  a 
favorite  in  days  of  peace.     A  just  critic  contends 


io8        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

that  Good  Art  is  Art  that  serves  its  purpose,  and 
starting  with  this  premise,  he  argues  that  "Any 
song  of  the  people,  whatever  its  emotions  may  be, 
has  a  right  to  be  classed  as  National  ]\lusic,"  even 
if  it  is  not  fitted  to  shine  among  the  classics. 


MARYLAND,  MY  MARYLAND 


MARYLAND 

Hark  to  thy  wandering  son's  appeal, 

Maryland ! 
My    Mother    State!     To    thee    I    kneel, 

Maryland ! 
For  life  and  death,  for  woe  and  weal. 
Thy   peerless   chivalry   reveal, 
And  gird  thy  beauteous  limbs  with  steel, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

Thou  wilt  not  cower  in  the  dust, 

Maryland ! 
Thy  beaming  sword  shall  never  rust, 

Maryland ! 
Remember  Carroll's  sacred  trust, 
Remember  Howard's  warlike  thrust, 
And  all  thy  slumbers  with  the  just, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

Thou  wilt  not  yield  the  vandal  toll, 

Maryland ! 
Thou  wilt  not  crook  to  his  control, 

Maryland ! 
Better  the  fire  upon  thee  roll, 
Better  the  blade,  the  shot,  the  bowl, 
Than  crucifixion  of  the  soul, 

Maryland,  my  Maryland ! 

— James  Ryder  Randall 


MARYLAND,  MY  MARYLAND 

This  famous  campfire  song  of  the  South  has 
been  called  the  ''Marseillaise"  of  the  Confederacy. 
Briefly  stated,  the  tune  was  the  old  German  folk- 
song, ''0  Tannenbaum"  winch  Longfellow  has 
translated,  "O  Hemlock  Tree,"  sung  by  students 
abroad,  to  the  words  'Tauriger  Horatius,"  but  to 
which  James  Ryder  Randall's  fiery  words  were 
fitted.  So  that  a  jovial  college  song  became  the 
setting  of  an  impetuous  war  lyric. 

Mr.  Randall  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Maryland, 
January,  1839,  and  studied  at  Georgetown  Col- 
lege; but  he  early  removed  to  Louisiana.  When 
the  Civil  War  broke  out  he  was  living  in  New  Or- 
leans, where  he  was  engaged  in  newspaper  work. 
Shortly  afterward,  he  became  professor  of  Eng- 
lish literature  and  the  classics,  at  the  small  college 
of  Poydras,  at  Pointe  Coupee,  on  the  Fausse 
Riviere,  about  seven  miles  from  the  Mississippi. 
And  it  was  there,  in  April  of  1861,  that  he  read 
in  the  New  Orleans  Delta  that  the  Massachusetts 
troops  had  been  fired  upon  as  they  passed  through 
Baltimore. 

HI 


112        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Maryland,  like  Delaware,  refused  to  pass  an 
ordinance  of  secession,  and  had  declared  herself 
neutral.  The  young,  twenty-two  year  old  pro- 
fessor had  been  impatient  and  downcast  at  the 
refusal  of  his  native  state  to  cast  her  lot  with 
the  Confederacy.  However,  in  this  incident,  he 
fancied  that  he  discerned  the  promise  that  the 
state  would  secede.  The  inspiration  of  this 
thought  enabled  him  to  produce  at  a  single  sit- 
ting, what  is  probably  the  finest  poem  of  the 
Southern  Cause. 

To  use  his  own  words,  ''This  (newspaper)  ac- 
count excited  me  greatly.  I  had  long  been  ab- 
sent from  my  native  city,  and  the  startling  event 
there  inflamed  my  mind.  That  night  I  could  not 
sleep,  for  my  nerves  were  all  unstrung.  About 
midnight  I  rose,  lit  a  candle,  and  went  to  my  desk. 
Some  powerful  spirit  appeared  to  possess  me,  and 
almost  involuntarily  I  proceeded  to  write  the 
song  of  'My  Maryland.'  The  whole  poem  was 
dashed  off  rapidly  when  once  begun.  It  was  not 
composed  in  cold  blood,  but  under  what  may  be 
called  a  conflagration  of  the  senses,  if  not  an  in- 
spiration of  the  intellect.  No  one  was  more  sur- 
prised than  I  was,  at  the  widespread  and  instan- 
taneous popularity  of  the  lyric.  I  had  been  so 
strangely  stimulated  to  write." 


MARYLAND,  MY  MARYLAND     113 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Randall  read  the  poem 
to  the  college  boys,  who  suggested  that  he  send 
it  to  the  Delta,  in  which  it  was  to  make  its  debut, 
and  attract  immediate  attention;  being  copied 
into  nearly  every  Southern  journal. 

The  poet,  in  his  remote  place  of  residence,  had 
the  satisfaction  of  being  convinced,  that,  what- 
ever might  be  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy,  the 
song  would  survive  it. 

This  was  true,  for  as  it  was  published  in  the  last 
days  of  April,  1861,  when  every  eye  was  fixed  on 
the  border  states,  it  was  Mr.  Randall's  good  for- 
tune to  have  been  the  medium  through  which  the 
South  spoke. 

It  was  a  very  young  lady  of  Baltimore  who  se- 
lected the  air  for  the  words;  Miss  Jennie  Cary. 
Her  father's  house  was  the  headquarters  for  the 
Southern  sympathizers  of  Baltimore.  One  even- 
ing the  glee  club  was  to  hold  its  meeting  in  their 
parlors;  and  Miss  Jennie,  as  the  only  musical 
member  of  the  family,  had  charge  of  the  pro- 
gram for  the  occasion.  As  her  sister.  Miss  Hetty 
Cary,  afterwards  related,  with  a  school-girl's 
eagerness  to  score  a  success,  she  searched  in  vain 
through  her  stock  of  songs  and  airs  to  secure 
some  new  and  ardent  expression  of  feelings  that 
were  by  this  time  wrought  up  to  the  point  of  ex- 


114        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

plosion.  Finally  i\Iiss  Hetty  came  to  her  rescue, 
and  suggested  the  poem  ''Maryland,  My  Mary- 
land." Miss  Hetty  also  produced  the  newspaper 
and  began  to  declaim  the  verses,  when  quick  as 
a  flash  ]\Iiss  Jennie  exclaimed,  'Tauriger  Hora- 
tius."  This  favorite  college  song  had  been  in- 
troduced to  the  Gary  household  by  a  Yale  student 
friend.  It  is  said  that  night,  when  her  rich  con- 
tralto voice  rang  out  the  fervid  stanzas,  the  ex- 
citement communicated  itself  with  such  effect  to 
a  crowd  assembled  beneath  the  open  windows,  "as 
to  endanger  seriously  the  liberties  of  the  party." 

Later  on,  the  lyric  gained  its  first  vogue  as  a 
war  song  when  Miss  Jennie  sang  it  at  a  serenade 
given  to  the  two  sisters  by  the  Maryland  troops, 
in  Beauregard's  army  at  Fairfax  Court  House, 
Virginia. 

In  1866  Air.  Randall  became  editor-in-chief  of 
the  Augusta,  Georgia,  Constitutionalist,  and  sub- 
sequently held  other  positions  in  the  South. 

He  was  the  author  of  considerable  verse,  and 
a  number  of  other,  similar  songs;  but  none  of 
these  ever  attained  the  popularity  of  ''Maryland, 
My  Maryland." 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM 


THE  BATTLE-CRY  OF  FREEDOM 

Geo  F.  Root. 

Yes,  we'll  ralh'  round  the  flag,  bo\'s,  we'll  ralh-  once  again, 

Shouting  the  battle-crj-  of  Freedom ; 
We  will  rally  from  the  hillside,  we'll  gather  from  the  plain, 

Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  Freedom. 

CHORUS 

The    Union    forever,    hurrah,    boys,    hurrah!     Down    with    the 

traitor,  up  with  the  star ; 
While  we  rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  rally  once  again,  shouting 

the  battle-cry  of  Freedom. 

We  are  springing  to  the  call  of  our  brothers  gone  before, 

Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  Freedom; 
And  we'll  fill  the  vacant  ranks  with  a  million  freemen  more, 

Shouting  the  battle-cr>'  of  Freedom. 

We  will  welcome  to  our  numbers  the  loyal,  true  and  brave, 

Shouting  the  battle-cr>'  of  Freedom ; 
And  altho'  they  may  be  poor,  not  a  man  shall  be  a  slave. 

Shouting  the  battle-crj'  of  Freedom. 

So  we're   springing  to  the   call  from  the   East  and  from  the 
West, 

Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  Freedom ; 
And  we'll  hurl  the  rebel  crew  from  the  land  we  love  the  best. 

Shouting  the  battle-cry  of  Freedom. 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM 

'Tor  a  peace  loving  country,"  comments  one  of 
her  gallant  defenders;  "this  United  States  of  ours 
has  done  a  very  large  amount  of  fighting." 

Now  Mars  and  Music  have  always  been  close 
associates,  far  back  into  the  misty  days  where 
established  fact  trails  off  into  nebulous,  cobwebby 
legend.     In  the  pithy  phrase  of  the  Spartan  poet, 

*With  the  iron,  stern  and  sharp, 
Comes  the  playing  on  the  harp." 

and,  human  nature  being  the  one  unchanging 

thing  in  all  the  universe,  we  are  still  at  the  same 

old  business  whenever  occasion  demands. 

Our  boys  who  have  been  overseas  of  late,  feel 

that  the  man  who  can  supply  music  for  the  troops 

is  almost  as  necessary  as  the  man  who  supplies 

the  munitions.     For  seasoned  soldiers  claim  that 

no  man  can  be  a  coward  as  long  as  he  can  hear 

the   band   playing.     And   the   gramophone,   the 

louder  the  better,  that  uplifts  its  intrepid  voice 

in  a  dugout  under  fire,  is  a  wondrous  source  of 

comfort. 

But  to  few  indeed  of  us  is  given  the  privilege  of 

117 


ii8        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

writing  a  song  so  replete  with  enthusiasm  that  it 
could  sweep  from  ocean  to  ocean,  during  the  ter- 
rible throes  of  a  fierce  national  struggle.  Three 
successive  times,  however,  has  that  honor  been 
accorded  to  one  man,  George  Frederic  Root  of 
Chicago,  the  author,  and  the  composer  of  the 
^'Battle  Cry  of  Freedom."  Many  a  time  was  it 
ordered  to  be  sung  as  the  soldiers  marched  into 
action.  Many  a  time,  as  its  strains  arose  on  the 
battlefield,  was  obedience  made  more  easy  to  the 
thrilling  command  to  follow  the  flag. 

One  of  our  authors  laughingly  comments  that 
with  the  pleasant  humor  which  never  deserts  the 
American,  even  in  the  hard  tussle  of  war,  the 
gentle  lines  of  ''Mary  had  a  Little  Lamb"  were 
fitted  snugly  to  the  tune,  and  many  a  regiment 
shortened  a  weary  march,  or  went  gaily  into  the 
fight  singing, 

''Mary  had  a  little  lamb, 
Its  fleece  was  white  as  snow, 
Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  freedom, 
And  everywhere  that  Mary  went 
The  Lamb  was  sure  to  go, 
Shouting  the  battle  cry  of  freedom." 

George  F.  Root  was  born  at  Sheffield,  Mass., 
August  30th,  1820.  He  studied  under  Webb  of 
Boston,  and  afterward  in  Paris,  in  1850.     Dur- 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM  119 

ing  the  period  between  1859  and  1871,  he  was  a 
music  publisher  in  Chicago.  A  singer  himself, 
he  was  associated  with  Lowell  Mason  in  popular- 
izing music  in  American  schools,  musical  conven- 
tions, and  teachers'  institutes.  The  Chicago  Uni- 
versity conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  doctor 
of  music.  He  wrote  various  cantatas,  but  is  best 
known  by  his  Civil  War  songs. 

The  composer  was  living  in  New  York,  as  or- 
ganist in  a  prominent  church,  and  teacher  of 
singing  in  several  seminaries.  As  a  result  of  his 
early  training,  some  pleasing  melodies  occurred 
to  him.  Being  a  modest  man,  he  thought  them 
too  simple  to  be  published.  Nevertheless,  on 
playing  some  of  them,  he  was  besought  by  a  pub- 
lisher to  furnish  the  manuscript. 

About  1855,  six  of  his  songs  were  published  by 
Hall  &  Son;  among  which  was  one  which  gained 
instantaneous  popularity, — "Rosalie,  the  Prairie 
Flower.''  These  were  all  so  favorably  received, 
that  they  led  to  the  production  of  a  large  number 
of  popular  melodies,  many  of  which  had  wide 
currency,  at  the  time,  although  they  are  now  quite 
forgotten. 

Their  author  composer  died  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enty-five years,  August  6th,  1895,  at  Barley's  Is- 
land. 


I20        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

'The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom,"  came  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war,  a  crucial  time  when  not  only 
the  States,  but  households  were  angrily  divided 
against  each  other. 

It  is  within  the  memory  of  living  men,  that  the 
speeches  of  Phillips  and  Garrison,  the  essays  of 
Emerson,  and  the  poems  of  Lowell  and  Whittier 
were  condemned  by  those  in  the  highest  places, 
even  in  Boston,  as  being  a  '^rub-a-dub"  agitation. 

The  Ohio  River  was  the  boundary  line,  south 
of  which  slavery  was  allowed,  north  of  which  it 
was  prohibited.  In  general,  the  people  of  the 
Border  States  had  no  wish  to  secede,  but  many 
of  them  held  that  if  the  Gulf  States  wished  to 
leave  the  Union,  the  Federal  Government  had  no 
right  to  retain  them  by  force.  The  great  Puritan 
Southerner,  Stonewall  Jackson,  is  said  to  have 
deplored  the  institution  of  slavery,  yet  he  was 
firmly  convinced  that  it  was  guaranteed  by  the 
National  Constitution. 

Few  suspected  that  such  a  bloody  contest  was 
at  hand,  when  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter 
on  that  unlucky  Friday  of  April  12th,  1861,  set 
the  entire  country  aflame,  and  precipitated  the 
war  for  the  Union.  President  Lincoln's  call  upon 
the  loyal  states  for  75,000  men  to  aid  in  restor- 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM  121 

ing  the  authority  of  the  government,  found  every- 
where, confusion. 

The  effect  of  this  summons  on  the  southern 
zone  of  border  states  was  the  immediate  secession 
from  the  Union  of  North  Carolina,  Tennessee 
and  Arkansas.  These  three  at  once  joined  the 
Confederacy;  thus  throwing  enormous  poHtical 
consequences  upon  the  action  of  the  four  remain- 
ing border  states,  Maryland,  Virginia,  Kentucky 
and  Missouri. 

The  most  powerful  of  the  four,  Virginia, 
"Mother  of  Presidents,''  was  ultimately  won  over 
to  the  side  of  the  Confederacy.  But  so  bitter  was 
the  struggle,  that  the  state  was  torn  in  twain,  and 
sturdy  Virginians  west  of  the  Alleghanies 
straightway  formed  a  new  commonwealth 
pledged  to  the  defence  of  the  Union.  Their 
motto  tells  its  own  significant  tale,  ^'Montani 
semper  liberi:"  "The  mountaineers  are  always 
free." 

The  attitude  of  Maryland  was  very  dangerous. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  unwavering  loyalty  of 
Governor  Wick,  and  the  promptness  with  which 
Governor  John  Andrew,  of  "John  Brown"  fame, 
hurried  the  forces  of  Massachusetts  to  the  front, 
the  first  task  of  the  Federal  army  might  have  been 
to  win  back  the  Federal  Capital. 


122        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

At  the  close  of  1862,  after  many  marches  and 
countermarches,  the  two  opposing  armies  came 
face  to  face,  in  middle  Tennessee.  A  battle  was 
necessary,  both  for  Bragg  and  for  Rosecrans, 
as  the  long  campaign  begun  in  July  must  be 
brought  to  a  decisive  close.  Men  of  one  nation, 
yet  foes,  it  was  now  to  be  seen  which  side  could 
annihilate  the  other.  A  boyish  Union  soldier  re- 
lates that  their  marching  had  been  done  in  cold, 
rainy  weather,  over  miserable  roads,  and  then  to 
pass  the  night  on  the  damp  ground  was  not  a 
pleasant  experience.  As  he  tells  us,  **More  than 
once,  I  laid  two  rails  together,  to  make  a  sort  of 
trough,  elevating  one  end  of  the  trough  in  order 
to  keep  it  off  the  ground,  and  slept  in  it  all  night, 
with  my  oilcloth  over  me,  and  my  cap  over  my 
face  to  protect  me  from  a  drizzling  rain. 

"Often  on  the  march,"  he  continues,  ''when  so 
fagged  that  we  could  scarcely  drag  one  foot  after 
the  other,  some  one  would  start  a  song,  and  it 
would  be  taken  up,  company  after  company,  regi- 
ment after  regiment,  until  the  whole  brigade  was 
singing  it,  and  presently,  we  would  forget  that  we 
were  tired. 

"Well  do  I  remember  that  piercing  cold  night 
of  the  first  day's  fight  at  Stone  River.  Twice 
had  the  men  waded  the  stream  in  water  waist 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM  123 

deep,  and  of  course  their  clothes  were  still  wet,  for 
they  had  no  fires.  Never  perhaps  has  there  been 
a  more  weird  New  Year's  party  than  in  a  dimly 
lighted  log  cabin  on  that  same  night  of  December 
31st,  1862,  when  a  council  of  war  was  held  on 
the  question  of  a  retreat  to  Nashville.  General 
Thomas'  laconic,  This  army  can't  retreat,'  set- 
tled the  question.  But  it  was  a  battle  which 
snatched  victory  out  of  defeat  by  a  very  narrow 
margin,  with  a  loss  of  10,000  men  on  each  side. 
^'Small  wonder  there  was  so  much  gloomy  feel- 
ing at  the  nearby  town  of  Murfreesboro.  Out- 
side of  the  terrible  losses  in  the  army,  President 
Lincoln  had  just  issued  the  Emancipation  Proc- 
lamation, and  this  was  most  unpalatable  to  the 
large  number  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  regi- 
ments among  the  troops.  An  eye  witness  speaks 
of  a  number  of  officers  who  had  resigned,  or  had 
tendered  resignations,  on  this  very  account.  He 
states  that  one  day  when  a  whole  batch  of  these 
resignations  came  in,  all  written  in  the  same 
handwriting,  and  coming  from  one  regiment,  in- 
cluding nearly  all  the  officers  in  it,  the  instigator 
of  these  letters  was  found  and  dismissed,  with 
every  mark  of  ignominy,  his  shoulder  straps  were 
cut  off,  and  he  was  drummed  out  of  camp.  But 
while  this  heroic  remedy  caused  the  officers  whom 


124        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

he  had  misled,  to  withdraw  their  resignations, 
yet  the  thing  rankled,  the  sore  was  there. 

''By  a  happy  accident,  the  glee  club  which  came 
down  from  Chicago,  a  few  days  afterward, 
brought  with  them  the  brand-new  song, 

*'We'll  Rally  Round  the  Flag,  Boys," 

and  it  ran  through  the  camp  like  wildfire.  The 
effect  was  little  short  of  miraculous.  It  put  as 
much  spirit  and  cheer  into  the  army  as  a  splendid 
victory.  Day  and  night  you  could  hear  it  by 
every  camp  fire  and  in  every  tent.  Never  shall  I 
forget  how  those  men  rolled  out  the  line, 

"And  although  he  may  be  poor,  he   shall  never  be  a 
slave." 

'T  do  not  know,''  adds  the  writer,  ''whether  Mr. 
Root  ever  knew  what  good  work  his  song  did  for 
us  there,  but  I  hope  so." 

And  the  state  Militia  Agent  of  Michigan  at 
Nashville  relates  another  anecdote  of  the  song. 

"There  had  been  a  number  of  skirmishes,  and 
some  of  the  wounded  had  been  taken  into  a  large 
ward  which  occupied  the  entire  body  of  the  church 
on  Cerry  Street.  As  I  was  passing  this  post 
hospital  my  attention  was  arrested  by  the  sing- 
ing, in  rather  a  loud  tone,  of  'Rally  Round  the 
Flag,  Boys,'  by  one  of  the  patients  inside.     While 


THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM  125 

listening  to  the  beautiful  music  of  that  popular 
song,  I  remarked  to  a  nurse  who  was  standing  in 
the  doorway  that  the  person  who  was  singing 
must  be  in  a  very  merry  mood,  and  could  not  be 
so  very  sick. 

*'  'You  are  mistaken,  sir,'  he  replied.  The  poor 
fellow  who  is  singing  that  good  old  song  is  grap- 
pling with  death, — has  been  dying  all  day  long. 
I  am  his  nurse,'  he  explained,  'and  the  scene  so 
affected  me  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  the  room, 
for  he  is  just  about  breathing  his  last.' 

''I  stepped  quietly  into  the  ward, — the  thing  was 
so  unbelievable.  True  enough,  the  brave  fellow 
was  very  near  his  end.  His  eyes  were  already 
fixed  in  death,  yet  he  was  struggling  with  all  his 
remaining  strength  against  the  grim  monster, 
while  at  the  same  time  there  gushed  forth  from 
his  patriotic  soul  almost  incoherently,  the  words, 

**We'll  rally  once  again, 

which  had  so  often  cheered  him  on  the  weary 
march,  or  strengthened  his  courage  when  enter- 
ing the  field  of  blood,  in  defence  of  that  flag. 
Finally,  he  sank  away  into  his  death  slumber,  and 
joined  his  Maker's  command  that  is  marching 
to  that  far-off,  better  land,  still  the  last  audible 
sound  that  escaped  his  lips,  was, 

"Rally  boys, — rally  once  again!" 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY 

Charles  S.  Hall. 

John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mould'ring  in  the  grave, 
John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mould'ring  in  the  grave, 
John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mould'ring  in  the  grave, 
His  soul  goes  marching  on! 

CHORUS 

Glory,    glory   hallelujah ! 
Glory,  glory,  glory  hallelujah! 
Glory,   glory   hallelujah! 
His  soul  is  marching  on. 

The  stars  of  heaven  are  looking  kindly  down, 
The  stars  of  heaven  are  looking  kindly  down, 
The  stars  of  heaven  are  looking  kindly  down, 
On  the  grave  of  old  John  Brown ! 

He's  gone  to  be  a  soldier  in  the  army  of  the  Lord, 
He's  gone  to  be  a  soldier  in  the  army  of  the  Lord, 
He's  gone  to  be  a  soldier  in  the  army  of  the  Lord! 
His  soul  is  marching  on! 

John  Brown's  knapsack  is  strapped  upon  his  back, 

John  Brown's  knapsack  is  strapped  upon  his  back, 

John  Brown's  knapsack  is  strapped  upon  his  back! 

His  soul  is  marching  on! 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY 

It  needs  but  the  sudden  pressure  of  some  mo- 
mentous circumstance,  to  bring  to  the  surface 
that  strong,  patriotic  sentiment  which  forms  the 
deep,  underlying  strata,  of  the  ever  practical 
American  mind. 

We  plucked  ''Yankee  Doodle"  from  the  ridicule 
of  the  enemy,  during  the  Revolution;  ''Hail  Co- 
lumbia" was  a  reflection  of  the  warlike  spirit  of 
1798,  when  a  conflict  with  France  was  thought  to 
be  inevitable;  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner" 
sprang  from  an  incident  of  the  War  of  1812,  while 
from  the  Civil  War  we  have  obtained  at  least 
two  compositions  which,  considered  simply  as 
war  songs,  are  more  effective  than  any  of  those 
that  went  before;  these  two  are  "Marching 
Through  Georgia,"  and  "John  Brown's  Body,"  so 
well  known  as  the  marching  song  of  the  nation, 
— that  rugged  chant  to  which  a  million  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Union  kept  time.  They  served  a 
great  purpose,  did  the  latter  songs,  and  were 
powerful  agents  in  the  result, — a  fact  that  was 

naively  admitted  by  the  enemy. 

129 


130        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Quite  by  accident,  the  North,  through  the 
agency  of  an  Ohio  man, — Dan  Emmett, — gave 
to  the  South  her  chief  war-song,  ''Dixie/*  And 
quite  as  unexpectedly  did  a  Southern  camp-meet- 
ing tune,  burst  from  its  chrysalis  to  become  the 
most  important  war-song  of  the  North  under  the 
name  of  ''Glory  Hallelujah,"  or  "John  Brown's 
Body." 

John  Brown  himself  was  an  enigma ;  a  strange 
medley  of  sanguine,  impracticable  temperament, 
imbounded  courage,  and  but  little  wisdom,  min- 
gled with  crude  visionary  ideality.  Being  in- 
spired by  Biblical  precepts,  and  Old  Testament 
hero-worship,  brought  him  to  that  mental  state 
where  he  could  lay  his  own  child  upon  the  altar, 
without  a  pang. 

In  his  Kansas  camps,  he  prayed  and  saw  vi- 
sions; believed  that  he  wielded  the  sword  of  the 
Lord  and  of  Gideon;  had  faith  that  the  angels 
encompassed  him.  Yet  his  fighting  was  of  the 
prevailing  type,  and  was  justifiable  only,  say  his 
more  truthful  biographers,  on  the  score  of  de- 
fensive retaliation;  for  some  of  his  acts  were 
quite  as  criminal  and  atrocious  as  the  worst  of 
those  committed  by  the  Border  Ruffians. 

John  Brown  dreamed  of  freedom  for  the  slave, 
during  twenty  long  years ;  and  he  died  trying  to 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  131 

make  his  dream  a  reality.  Had  there  been  no 
John  Brown,  we  might  never  have  had  an  Abra- 
ham Lincoln ;  for  the  manner  of  his  death  was  of 
the  utmost  importance  in  the  development  of  the 
Civil  War.  Yet  to  quote  Mr.  Lincoln's  own  calm, 
common  sense  opinion  of  the  Harper's  Ferry 
episode,  ''John  Brown's  effort  was  peculiar.  It 
was  not  a  slave  insurrection.  It  was  an  attempt 
by  white  men  to  get  up  a  revolt  among  slaves,  in 
which  the  slaves  refused  to  participate."  In  fact, 
it  was  so  absurd  that  the  slaves,  with  all  their 
ignorance,  saw  plainly  enough  it  could  not  suc- 
ceed. 

Some,  however,  claim  that  the  real  turning- 
point  in  the  history  of  the  New  World  rested  with 
John  Brown  at  Harper's  Ferry;  as  the  outbreak 
was  but  a  violent  climax,  capping  the  great  series 
of  political  sensations  as  far  back  as  1852.  Im- 
portant effects  follow  rapidly  upon  this  brave 
but  quixotic  attempt.  It  was  just  three  years 
and  thirty  days  after  Brown  struck  his  blow,  that 
Lincoln  issued  the  Emancipation  Proclamation. 
But  for  Brown's  career,  it  might  have  been  sixty 
years  before  the  same  result  was  reached. 

Our  big  advances  along  the  path  of  right  and 
justice  have  always  been  won,  in  the  main,  by 
the  bulk  of  the  nation;  which  calls  to  mind  Lin- 


132        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

coin's  remark  that  ''the  Lord  must  have  thought 
a  great  deal  of  plain,  ordinary  people, — he  made 
so  many  of  them."  It  is  a  historical  fact,  that 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  hotly  op- 
posed by  the  majority  of  the  commercial  mag- 
nates of  those  times,  upon  the  ground  that  it 
would  hurt  business,  and  it  is  said  that  Lincoln 
was  seriously  urged  not  to  issue  the  Emancipa- 
tion Proclamation  because  it  would  affect  the 
price  of  stocks. 

John  Brown  was  a  Connecticut  man,  born  at 
Torrington,  in  1800,  of  Puritan  ancestry.  With 
ambition  curbed  to  irritability  by  the  fetters  of 
hard  labor,  privation,  and  enforced  endurance, 
his  character  seems  to  have  developed  along  the 
line  of  religious  fanaticism.  It  is  agreed,  that 
his  courage  partook  of  the  recklessness  of  insan- 
ity. He  never  stopped  to  count  odds.  ''What 
are  five  to  one?"  he  would  ask,  and  at  another 
time,  he  said,  "One  man  in  the  right,  ready  to  die, 
will  chase  a  thousand."  He  probably  believed 
that  he  led  a  charmed  life;  for  he  boasted  that  he 
had  been  fired  at  as  many  as  thirty  times,  and 
only  his  hair  had  been  touched.  He  boasted  that 
he  could  tell  a  strange  sheep  at  once  in  his  flock ; 
and  that  such  was  his  power  over  animals,  that 
he  could  make  a  cat  or  a  dog  so  uncomfortable  as 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  133 

to  wish  to  leave  the  room,  by  simply  fixing  his 
eyes  upon  it. 

His  voice  is  described  as  deep,  clear  and  pleas- 
ant, which  must  have  contributed  greatly  toward 
his  ascendency  over  others. 

He  had  been  twice  married,  and  of  the  nine- 
teen children  born  to  him,  eleven  were  living  at 
the  time  when  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill  plunged 
the  country  into  heated  political  strife. 

Four  of  his  sons  were  in  the  first  rush  of  emi- 
grants who  moved  away  to  the  new  territory. 
Later  on,  several  others  went  also,  and  John 
Brown  himself,  always  of  a  roving  disposition, 
followed  them,  with  money  and  arms  contributed 
in  the  North,  at  the  time  when  the  Border  Rufiian 
hostilities  broke  out. 

Then,  using  his  sons  as  a  nucleus,  he  was  able 
to  gather  a  band  of  about  fifteen  or  twenty  ad- 
venturers, who  presently  began  to  make  his  name 
a  terror  to  his  opponents. 

He  was  fully  persuaded  that  he  was  God's  mes- 
senger to  destroy  slavery;  and  it  was  in  the 
struggle  which  the  Free  State  men  were  making 
for  the  control  of  the  section  that  he  first  ap- 
peared as  a  public  character.  Osawatomie  is  a 
village  of  Miami  County,  and  John  Brown's  nick- 
name arose  from  the  fact  that  it  was  there  he  won 


134        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

national  renown  by  the  heroic  stand  he  made 
against  an  overwhelming  force  of  invaders  from 
Missouri. 

It  was  a  period  when  slavery  was  being  ex- 
tended very  rapidly,  and  it  is  only  just  to  say  that 
John  Brown  had  much  to  do  with  the  successful 
contest  which  kept  it  out  of  the  Territory  of 
Kansas.  On  every  side,  feeling  was  at  fever- 
heat.  There  was  a  perpetual  guerrilla  warfare 
going  on  in  a  vague,  desultory  way.  The  op- 
posing parties  were  so  sharply  defined  that  their 
labels  attached  even  to  the  dumb  animals.  Peo- 
ple spoke  of  an  anti-slavery  colt  or  a  pro-slavery 
cow.  These  things  seem  incredible  to  us  now. 
But  as  Frank  Sanborn  once  declared,  at  that  time, 
it  was  difficult  for  any  man  to  have  much  to  do 
with  the  affairs  of  Kansas,  even  at  long  range, 
without  developing  a  crack  in  his  brain. 

John  Brown's  attitude  is  not  so  much  to  be 
wondered  at ;  for  in  this  conflict  he  had  seen  two 
of  his  own  sons  shot  down.  One  was  killed  out- 
right, the  other  wounded  to  the  death  by  the 
Border  Ruffians,  without  trial  or  mercy  and  a 
third  had  been  rendered  insane  by  cruel  treat- 
ment. John  Brown's  education  was  scant,  and 
his  reading  limited.  His  passionate  hatred  of 
the  institution  of  slavery,  intensified  by  his  per- 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  135 

sonal  and  family  sacrifices,  together  with  a  year's 
border  fighting,  suddenly  put  thought  into  action ; 
and  while  it  is  impossible  to  trace  precisely  how 
and  when  the  Harper's  Ferry  invasion  first  took 
practical  shape  in  John  Brown's  mind,  it  is  al- 
together probable  that  it  was  an  outgrowth  of  his 
Kansas  experiences. 

Brown's  earliest  collision  with  the  Border  Ruf- 
fians had  occurred  in  the  spring  and  summer  of 

1856.  In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  the  United 
States  troops  dispersed  his  band,  and  generally 
speaking,  suppressed  the  civil  war.     In  January, 

1857,  we  find  him  in  the  Eastern  States  again, 
appealing  for  arms  and  supplies  to  various  com- 
mittees, and  in  various  places,  an  appeal  which 
only  partly  succeeded;  although  together  with 
his  strong  personality,  he  had  an  impressive  man- 
ner, equally  persuasive  and  commanding.  In 
garb  half  deacon,  half  soldier,  his  tall,  slender 
figure  gave  him  rather  a  military  bearing. 

Some  time  during  the  fifties,  before  matters 
had  reached  the  acute  stage,  Julia  Ward  Howe, 
since  famous  for  her  "Battle  Hymn  of  the  Re- 
public," met  him  on  one  occasion,  at  her  own 
house  in  South  Boston.  Her  husband.  Dr.  Sam- 
uel Gridley  Howe,  inspired  by  the  spirit  and  ex- 
ample of  Lord  Byron,  had  spent  five  years  of  his 


136        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

young  manhood  aiding  the  Greeks  in  their  strug- 
gle for  liberty,  against  the  Turks.  Still  a  firm 
lover  of  freedom,  he  was  a  prominent  Abolition- 
ist himself,  and  was  deeply  interested  in  Brown's 
career. 

Mrs.  Howe  describes  John  Brown  as  a  middle- 
aged  man,  with  hair  and  beard  of  amber  color, 
streaked  with  gray.  To  use  her  words,  "He 
looked  a  Puritan  of  the  Puritans,  forceful,  con- 
centrated and  self-contained."  Another  person 
is  impressed  with  his  thin,  worn,  resolute  face  in 
which  there  were  signs  of  the  hidden  fire  which 
might  wear  him  out,  and  practically  did  so,  but 
nothing  of  pettiness,  or  baseness  of  thought. 

John  Brown  was  nearly  six  feet  tall,  but  spare, 
although  broad  shouldered.  Otherwise  accounts 
vary  as  to  the  appearance  of  the  man.  This  can 
be  largely  accounted  for  by  the  fact,  that  later  on 
in  life,  he  grew  the  great,  spade-like  white  beard 
and  heavy  white  mustache  to  disguise  his  coun- 
tenance, when  he  decided  on  postponing  the 
Harper's  Ferry  raid,  in  order  to  return  to  Kan- 
sas, after  the  Doyle  murders. 

Taught  from  childhood  really  to  fear  God,  and 
to  keep  his  commandments,  he  believed  absolutely 
in  the  divine  authenticity  of  the  entire  Bible. 
He  had  also  a  very  singular  faith  that  an  all- 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  137 

seeing  Jehovah  had  created  the  Alleghany  moun- 
tains from  all  eternity,  as  the  predestined  refuge 
for  a  body  of  fugitive  slaves.  In  his  youth,  he 
had  traversed  those  lonely  defiles  as  a  surveyor, 
and  knew  special  points  which  could  be  held  by  a 
hundred  men  against  a  thousand. 

''He  was  simply  a  belated  Covenanter,"  claims 
Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  "3,  man  who  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  pen  might  have  drawn." 

All  reasonable  argument  he  met  with  his  rigid 
dogmatic  formulas,  his  selected  proverbs,  his  fa- 
vorite texts  of  Scripture.  ''A  few  men  in  the 
right,  and  knowing  they  are  right,  can  overturn  a 
King."  "Twenty  men  in  the  Alleghanies  could 
break  slavery  to  pieces  in  two  years,"  he  was  ac- 
customed to  say,  and  the  man  was  intensely  in 
earnest. 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1859,  under  an  assumed 
name,  John  Brown,  with  two  sons,  and  another 
follower,  appeared  near  Harper's  Ferry,  and  soon 
after  rented  the  Kennedy  Farm,  in  Maryland, 
five  miles  from  the  town;  where  he  made  a  pre- 
tense of  cattle-dealing  and  mining.  But  in  re- 
ality, he  was  secretly  collecting  his  rifles,  revolv- 
ers, ammunition,  pikes,  blankets,  tents  and  mis- 
cellaneous articles  for  a  campaign. 

Harper's  Ferry  was  a  town  of  five  thousand  in- 


138        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

habitants;  and  lying  between  the  slave  states  of 
Maryland  and  Virginia,  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Potomac  and  the  Shenandoah  rivers,  where  the 
united  streams  flow  through  a  picturesque  gap 
in  the  single  mountain  range  called  the  Blue 
Ridge.  A  bridge  across  each  stream,  connects 
it  with  the  opposite  shore;  and  the  Government 
factory  and  buildings,  which  utilized  the  water- 
power  of  the  Potomac,  lay  in  the  lowest  part  of 
the  point  of  land  between  the  streams.  The  sit- 
uation was  not  at  all  practicable  for  the  protrac- 
ted guerilla  warfare  contemplated  in  Brown's 
plan. 

It  was  a  favorite  saying  of  his,  to  "Give  a  slave 
a  pike,  and  you  make  him  a  man."  He  conceived 
the  idea  that  upon  a  certain  signal,  the  slaves  from 
many  plantations  would  come  to  him  in  such  num- 
bers that  he  and  they  would  become  masters  of 
the  situation,  with  little  or  no  bloodshed.  The 
result  of  that  fatal  mistake  is  a  matter  of  his- 
tory. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  evening,  October  i6th, 
1859,  that  Brown  gave  his  final  orders;  humanely 
directing  his  men  to  take  no  life  where  they  could 
avoid  it.  Placing  a  few  pikes  and  other  imple- 
ments in  his  one-horse  wagon,  he  started  with  his 
company  of  eighteen  followers  at  eight  o'clock, 


JOHN    BROWN 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  139 

leaving  five  men  behind.  They  cut  the  telegraph 
wires  on  the  way,  and  reached  Harper's  Ferry 
about  eleven  o'clock, — fourteen  white  men,  and 
four  negroes,  with  their  leader.  Brown  himself 
broke  open  the  army  gates,  took  the  watchmen 
prisoners,  and  made  that  place  his  headquarters. 

Separating  his  men  into  small  detachments,  he 
took  possession  of,  and  attempted  to  hold,  the 
two  bridges,  the  arsenal  and  the  rifle  factory. 
Next,  he  sent  six  of  his  men  five  miles  into  the 
country,  to  bring  in  several  prominent  slave-own- 
ers, and  their  slaves.  This  was  accomplished 
before  daylight,  and  all  were  brought  as  prison- 
ers to  Brown,  at  the  armory. 

As  the  day  dawned  upon  the  town,  an  irregu- 
lar street-firing  broke  out  between  Brown's  sen- 
tinels and  individual  citizens  with  firearms.  The 
alarm  was  carried  to  neighboring  towns,  and  the 
killed  and  wounded  on  both  sides  augmented  the 
excitement. 

By  Monday  noon.  Brown  was  driven  to  take 
refuge  with  his  diminished  force  in  the  engine- 
house,  a  low,  strong  brick  building  in  the  armory 
yard,  where  they  barricaded  the  windows  and  im- 
provised loop-holes,  and  into  which  they  took  with 
them  ten  selected  prisoners  as  hostages. 

But  now  the  whole  country  had  become  thor- 


140       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

oughly  roused.  Sundry  military  companies 
poured  in,  from  the  nearby  towns  and  by  night 
the  Government  had  landed  a  detachment  of  ma- 
rines, under  the  command  of  Colonel  Robert  E. 
Lee,  so  soon  to  be  himself  the  commander  of  a 
far  greater  insurrection,  but  at  that  time  he  was 
on  the  staff  of  General  Scott. 

At  daylight,  on  Tuesday  morning.  Brown  was 
summoned  to  surrender,  and  on  his  refusal,  a 
storming  party  of  marines  battered  in  the  door. 
The  great  scheme  of  liberation,  elaborately  built 
up  for  nearly  three  years,  was  in  utter  collapse, 
after  five  minutes  of  conflict.  One  marine  was 
shot  dead  in  the  assault.  Brown  fell  under  se- 
vere sword  and  bayonet  wounds,  two  of  his  sons 
lay  dead  or  dying,  four  of  five  of  his  men  were 
made  prisoners,  only  two  remaining  unhurt  after 
having  held  the  town  for  about  thirty-six  hours. 

Brown  was  sentenced  to  be  hung  on  December 
2nd,  and  his  companions  were  to  be  executed  the 
1 6th.  From  beginning  to  end,  this  enterprise 
was  illegal  and  rash,  but  it  sprang  from  a  gen- 
erous impulse.  The  old  man's  courage,  and  his 
utter  self-devotion  to  his  cause,  appealed  most 
strongly  to  the  sympathy  of  the  opponents  of 
slavery,  and  even  compelled  words  of  praise  from 
the  lips  of  Henry  A.  Wise,  the  Governor  of  Vir- 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  141 

ginia,  who  signed  his  death  warrant.  The  irre- 
pressible conflict  between  bondage  and  liberty  was 
fast  approaching  its  crisis,  and  the  tragedy  of 
Harper's  Ferry  may  be  considered  as  an  intro- 
ductory act  to  the  tremendous  struggle  that  was 
to  ensue. 

Mrs.  Howe  describes  the  sad  weeks  of  John 
Brown's  imprisonment  and  narrates  that  the  day 
of  his  death  was  one  of  general  mourning  in  New 
England.  Even  there,  however,  people  were  not 
all  of  the  same  mind,  for  she  adds,  ''I  heard  one 
friend  say  that  John  Brown  was  a  pig-headed  old 
fool." 

While  their  captive  was  still  alive,  though  un- 
der sentence  of  death,  the  poet,  Edmund  Clarence 
Steadman,  prophesied  to  the  Virginians  that, 

"Each  drop  from  old  Brown's  life  veins, 
Like  the  red  gore  of  the  dragon, 
May  spring  up  a  vengeful  fury,  hissing 
Through  your  slave-worn  lands! 
And  old  Brown, 
Osawatomie  Brown, 
May  trouble  you  more  than  ever,  when 
You've  nailed  his  coffin  down!" 

Sympathy  for  his  boldness  and  misfortune 
came  to  him  in  large  measure.  The  feeling  which 
his  execution  called  forth  in  Massachusetts  found 


142        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

relief  in  a  mass  meeting  at  Faneuil  Hall.  That 
evening,  crowds  of  young  men  and  boys  paraded 
the  streets  of  Boston,  singing  to  a  familiar  air,  a 
monotonous  lament,  of  which  the  burden  was : 

**Tell  John  Andrew, 
Tell  John  Andrew, 
Tell  John  Andrew, 

John  Brown's  dead!" 

A  little  more  than  a  year  after  this  meeting  at 
Faneuil  Hall,  came  news  that  thrilled  the  whole 
country  to  the  heart ; — the  news  of  that  first  shot 
against  the  flag  at  Fort  Sumter. 

As  near  as  we  can  trace,  it  was  probably  in 
April  of  1861,  just  at  the  time  when  "My  Mary- 
land" was  being  widely  sung  throughout  the 
South,  that  its  loyal  rival,  '7^^^  Brown's  Body," 
was  pieced  together  by  a  Glee  Club,  a  quartet  of 
young  men  in  the  Second  Battalion  of  Massachu- 
setts Infantry,  afterward  nicknamed  ''The  Ti- 
gers," which  had  received  orders  to  occupy  Fort 
Warren, — one  of  the  defenses  of  Boston, — and 
to  place  it  in  as  good  repair  as  possible. 

From  this  Glee  Club,  the  whole  company  had 
learned  the  old  Methodist  hymn  tune  with  "Glory 
Hallelujah"  words.  The  authorship  of  the  orig- 
inal song  is  claimed  by  Mr.  William  Steff e,  a  one- 
time popular  Sunday  School  composer.     It  is  said 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  143 

to  have  been  a  prime  favorite  around  Charleston, 
both  in  the  colored  churches  and  among  the  fire 
companies.     As  a  camp  meeting  hymn,  the  verses 

began  : 

'*Say,  brothers,  will  you  meet  us? 

Say,  brothers,  will  you  meet  us? 

Say,  brothers,  will  you  meet  us? 

On  Canaan's  happy  shore?" 

The  song  dated  from  about  1856,  and  in  the 
four  years  between  the  composition  of  the  tune, 
and  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  the  camp  meeting 
hymn  had  ample  time  to  drift  northward  and  be- 
come generally  familiar,  for  it  had  already  ap- 
peared in  some  of  the  old  Methodist  hymnals. 
There  was  a  majestic  simplicity  in  the  rhythm 
that  adapted  itself  to  lighten  labor.  So  while  en- 
trenchments were  being  thrown  up  by  the  sol- 
diers, and  the  rubbish  of  the  old  fort  carried 
away,  the  men  sang  the  swinging  tune  with  a  vim 
that  made  the  picks  and  shovels  ply  merrily  at 
their  task. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  spirit  of  mischief 
prompted  the  young  soldiers  to  improvise  verses 
of  a  less  sacred  character,  to  sing  to  the  same 
melody.  As  it  happened,  one  of  the  singers  in 
the  Glee  Club  was  an  honest  Scotchman,  by  the 
name  of  John  Brown,  who  was  the  good-natured 
butt  of  many  of  their  jokes.     Finally  a  jest  was 


144        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

made  of  the  similarity  of  his  name  to  that  of  John 
Brown  of  Osawatomie,  and  this,  it  is  claimed,  is 
how  the  first  verse  originated,  and  the  song  was 
called,  "Joh^  Brown's  Song."  The  Scotch  John 
Brown  was  unfortunate  enough  to  lose  his  life 
later  on,  in  trying  to  swim  a  river,  during  a  re- 
treat of  the  Union  forces. 

The  second  battalion  of  ^lassachusetts  had 
built  upon  going  to  the  front  in  a  body;  but  as 
their  services  were  not  accepted,  as  an  indepen- 
dent organization,  the  persevering  Glee  Club,  to- 
gether with  many  others  of  'The  Tigers,"  en- 
listed in  the  Twelfth  ^lassachusetts  A^olunteers, 
commanded  by  Colonel  Fletcher  Webster.  This 
is  why  we  find  "Glory  Hallelujah"  so  closely  as- 
sociated with  the  history  of  the  Twelfth  ^lassa- 
chusetts,  for  there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
it  was  this  AA^bster  regiment  which  first  adopted 
''John  Brown's  Body,"  as  a  marching  song,  and 
bore  it  along  toward  popularity.  ]\lany  people 
heard  it  for  the  first  time  on  Boston  Common, 
when  Colonel  Webster's  men  marched  across  it  on 
their  way  from  Fort  Warren  to  the  Providence  de- 
pot, to  take  cars  for  Xe^v  York.  These  soldiers 
sang  it  also  in  New  York,  as  they  marched  down 
Broadway,  July  24th,  1861,  and  it  created  the  wild- 
est enthusiasm  among  the  assembled  multitude. 


JOHN  BROWN'S  BODY  145 

In  fact,  they  sang  it  incessantly  until  August, 
1862,  when  Colonel  Webster  died.  By  that  time, 
the  tune  had  been  taken  up  by  the  nation  at  large, 
and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  soldiers  were 
marching  forward  to  the  fray,  with  the  name  of 
John  Brown  upon  their  lips.  ^'J^hn  Brown's 
Body"  was  the  song  of  the  hour.  There  was  a 
special  taunt  to  the  South  in  the  use  of  the  name 
of  the  martyr  of  Abolition,  while  to  the  North 
that  name  had  become  as  a  battle  slogan,  and  the 
tune  which  had  begun  life  as  a  Sunday  School 
hymn,  proved  one  of  the  best  marching  melodies 
and  one  of  the  most  military  songs  of  the  time. 
It  has  taken  firm  root  in  England  as  well  as  in 
our  own  country.  Even  in  the  far  distant  Sou- 
dan, we  are  told  that  General  Kitchener's  troops 
sometimes  beguiled  the  wearisome  route  by  sing- 
ing this  Union  war  song. 

During  the  late  conflict  of  nations,  ^John 
Brown's  Body"  has  been  a  favorite  with  many  of 
the  armies,  both  in  the  camp  and  along  the  march. 

Tommy  Atkins  seems  to  be  especially  devoted 
to  this  song,  and  it  is  said  that  even  in  the  earlier 
months  of  the  war,  an  American  traveller  might 
hear  the  strains  of  "John  Brown's  Body"  echoing 
from  almost  any  camp  of  British  soldiers  in  any 
part  of  the  world. 


THE  BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord : 

He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wrath  are 

stored ; 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightning  of  His  terrible  swift  sword; 
His  truth  is  marching  on. 

Clio. — Glory,  glory,  hallelujah! 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah! 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah! 
His  truth  is  marching  on. 

I  have  seen  Him  in  the  watch-fires  of  a  hundred  circling  camps, 
They  have  builded  him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews  and  damps; 
I  have  read  His  righteous  sentence  by  the  dim  and  flaring  lamps ; 
His  day  is  marching  on.- 

I  have  read  His  fiery  gospel  writ  in  rows  of  burnished  steel ! 
"  As  ye  deal  with  My  contemners,  so  with  you  My  grace  shall 

deal! 
Let  the  Hero,  born  of  woman,  crush  the  serpent  with  His  heel," 
Since  God  is  marching  on.- 

He  has  sounded  forth  the  trumpet  that  shall  never  call  retreat; 
He  is  searching  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  His  judgment  seat, 
O  be  swift,  my  soul,  to  answer  Him!  be  jubilant,  my  feet! 
Our  God  is  marching  on.- 

In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  born  across  the  sea, 
With  a  glory  in  His  bosom  that  transfigures  you  and  me ; 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men  free, 
While  God  is  marching  on. 


THE  BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

"The  mightiest  of  out  war  songs  is  'Jo^^ 
Brown's  Body'  ennobled  into  'The  Battle  Hymn 
of  the  Republic/  "  asserts  a  well-known  writer, 
with  considerable  finality.  And  during  the  early 
days  of  our  entry  into  the  great  world  conflict  an 
army  visitor  warmly  assents.  He  relates,  "The 
other  day  down  in  a  southern  camp,  I  heard  20,- 
000  men,  led  by  six  military  bands,  singing  all  to- 
gether,— 

"  'Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the 
Lord, 
He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of 
wrath  are  stored.' 

And  when  you  hear  20,000  men  singing  that 

song  in  unison,  you  will  realize  what  the  coming 

of  our  troops  to  France  is  going  to  mean." 

Still  another  man  adds  his  experience:     "The 

theater  at  Yaphank  will  hold  10,000  men;  and 

if  you've  never  heard  that  many  male  voices  doing 

'The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,'  you  simply 

can't  imagine  what  patriotic  singing  can  be." 

That  one  ringing,  resplendent  lyric  seems  to 

149 


ISO        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

stand  apart,  in  a  class  of  its  own.  To  have  writ- 
ten such  poem  is  greatness  and  glory  enough  for 
any  woman;  though  she  was  probably  the  most 
notable  woman  that  America  has  ever  produced. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  bestowal  upon  her  of 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Letters,  by  Brown  Uni- 
versity, Julia  Ward  Howe  was  formally  charac- 
terized as  ''author,  philanthropist,  mother,  friend 
of  the  slave,  the  prisoner,  and  of  all  who  suffer; 
singer  of  the  Battle  Hymn  of  freedom." 

She  was  born  a  century  ago.  May  27,  1819, 
three  days  after  Queen  Victoria;  and  was  the 
daughter  of  Samuel  Ward,  a  distinguished  and 
wealthy  New  York  banker.  Her  earliest  years 
were  passed  in  a  fine  old  house  facing  Bowling 
Green;  which  was  a  region  of  high  fashion  in 
those  days.  A  literary  prodigy  from  childhood, 
— in  after  life,  she  spoke  French,  Italian,  Ger- 
man, or  Greek,  if  necessary,  to  the  distinguished 
foreigners  who  frequently  visited  at  her  pleasant 
home  in  Boston.  For  her  magnetic  personality, 
keen  wit,  and  wonderful  charm  of  manner  made 
her  an  ideal  hostess. 

But,  casting  all  else  aside,  we  may  sum  up  her 
life  achievement  in  this  one  sentence.  She  wrote 
'The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic!" 

The  tune,  of  course,  was  in  existence  long  be- 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC     151 

fore  the  words  were  penned.  The  poem  was 
written  to  fit  the  melody,  and  sprang  into  being 
as  the  inspiration  of  a  single  night. 

At  twenty-three,  Julia  Ward  was  married  to 
Dr.  Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  of  Boston.  That  was 
in  1843,  ^^d  the  newly-married  couple  went  im- 
mediately to  Europe.  Dr.  Howe  was,  at  the 
time,  head  of  the  Alassachusetts  School  for  the 
Blind,  at  South  Boston;  and  had  attained  celeb- 
rity as  the  instructor  of  Laura  Bridgman. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  passed  the  winter  on  the 
Continent,  returning  to  America  in  1844,  where 
they  settled  in  South  Boston.  The  young  wife 
grew  to  love  the  city  of  her  adoption;  and  when, 
in  1 85 1,  her  husband  was  called  to  the  editorship 
of  The  Boston  Commonwealth,  Mrs.  Howe's  op- 
portunity came.  Her  wTitings  made  the  paper 
famous,  during  those  seething  years  when  the 
abolition  sentiment  was  growing  and  gaining  im- 
petus. 

Dr.  Howe,  being  her  senior  by  twenty  years, 
was  beyond  the  age  of  military  service,  when  the 
Civil  War  broke  out.  Yet  as  a  skilled  physician, 
he  was  fitted  to  render  invaluable  assistance. 
His  life-long  solicitude  for  those  in  need  was  di- 
rected in  this  crisis,  to  yet  broader  channels. 
Faithfully  investigating  the  condition  and  health 


152        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

of  the  army,  he  became  a  vigorous  arm  of  that 
patriotic  body  of  men  and  women,  which  con- 
stituted the  L^nited  States  Sanitary  Commission. 

Naturally,  \A^ashington,  the  Capital,  was  the 
great  center  of  interest.  In  December  of  1861, 
Dr.  and  ]\Irs.  Howe,  the  Reverend  Dr.  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  and  ^Irs.  Clarke,  together  with 
Governor  John  A.  Andrew  visited  that  city  for 
a  few  days.  And  ^Irs.  Howe  explains,  that  as 
their  train  sped  on  through  the  darkness,  they 
saw,  in  vivid  contrast,  the  fires  of  the  pickets  set 
to  guard  the  line  of  the  railroad. 

IMcClellan's  army  was  encamped  near  the  cap- 
ital; and  one  day,  the  party  drove  several  miles 
out  from  the  city,  to  witness  a  review  of  the 
troops.  But  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  ma- 
noeuvres were  interrupted  by  a  sudden  attack  of 
the  enemy;  and  instead  of  the  promised  parade, 
they  saw  some  reenforcements  gallop  hastily  to 
the  aid  of  a  small  force  of  Union  soldiers,  that 
had  been  surprised  and  surrounded.  Of  course, 
this  unexpected  assault  by  the  Confederates 
caused  great  excitement,  and  delayed  the  return 
of  the  visitors ;  as  their  route  was  much  impeded 
by  the  homeward  marching  of  the  troops,  who  al- 
most filled  the  highway. 

Mrs.  Howe  was  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC     153 

well-trained,  clear,  mezzo-soprano  voice  of  un- 
usual range  and  exquisite  quality.  As  the  prog- 
ress toward  the  city  was  very  slow,  owing  to 
the  sea  of  soldiers  surrounding  their  carriage, — 
to  beguile  the  irksome  moments, — she  began  to 
sing  army  songs;  in  which  the  rest  of  the  party 
joined.  Among  others,  the  "Jo^^  Brown''  song 
seemed  to  specially  please  the  soldiers,  who  them- 
selves took  up  the  strain,  calling  out  to  the  party, 
at  intervals,  ''Good  for  you!"  ''Give  us  some 
more!" 

Just  then,  as  she  goes  on  to  tell  us,  "my  dear 
old  pastor.  Dr.  Clarke,  said  to  me,  'Mrs.  Howe, 
why  do  you  not  write  some  good  words  for  that 
stirring  tune?  Words  worthy  of  it,  and  worthy 
of  this  occasion?'  " 

Mrs.  Howe  protested  that  she  felt  unequal  to 
the  task.  But  Dr.  Clarke  only  insisted  the  more. 
"And  so,"  she  admits,  "to  pacify  the  dear  old 
man,  I  promised  to  try." 

Either  that  promise,  or  the  swinging  tune,  sung 
by  the  marching  throng,  had  made  so  deep  an 
impression  on  the  mind  of  the  author,  that,  awak- 
ening before  dawn,  the  next  morning,  she  found 
herself  attempting  to  give  form  and  shape  to 
shadowy  words  that  seemed  capable  of  being  sung 
to  the  "John  Brown"  music.     She  has  described 


154       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

how  line  after  line  swiftly  molded  itself  in  her 
brain.  And  when  she  had  thought  out  the  last 
of  the  five  stanzas,  she  was  so  afraid  to  risk  the 
danger  of  forgetting  them,  that  she  sprang  hastily 
out  of  bed,  and  groped  around  in  the  dim  gray 
light,  until  she  found  a  pen,  and  a  scrap  of  paper 
on  which  she  wrote,  scarcely  seeing  them,  those 
precious  lines. 

This  was  not  an  unusual  proceeding  with  Mrs. 
Howe ;  for  long  habit  had  accustomed  her  to  writ- 
ing thus,  in  a  room  darkened  for  the  repose  of  her 
babies.  On  this  occasion,  she  crept  quietly  back 
to  bed,  saying  to  herself,  as  she  fell  asleep,  ^T 
like  this  better  than  anything  I  have  ever  writ- 
ten." 

Dr.  Clarke  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  verses, 
when  she  read  them  to  him  a  day  or  two  later; 
and  probably  said,  'T  told  you  so."  She  took 
them  to  James  T.  Fields,  soon  after  her  return 
to  Boston.  At  that  time  Mr.  Fields  was  editor 
of  the  Atlantic  Monthly;  and  the  title  "Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic"  was  of  his  devising.  The 
poem  was  published  in  the  February,  1862,  issue 
of  that  magazine;  and  she  tells  us,  that  although 
it  was  somewhat  praised,  it  did  not  at  first  receive 
special  mention.  However,  she  does  not  seem 
to  have  known  how  rapidly  the  hymn  was  making 


From  a  rnotugrapii,  cupyrignt; 
By  J.  E.  Purdy,  Boston 


JULIA   WARD    HOWE 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC     155 

its  way ;  nor  how  strong  a  hold  it  was  taking  upon 
the  people  in  general.  In  the  course  of  a  year, 
it  was  printed  broadcast  in  newspapers,  and  army 
hymn-books.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  poem  of  the 
hour ;  and  the  great  Union  Armies  were  marching 
to  its  echoing  stanzas. 

The  Fighting  Chaplain  McCabe,  of  the  122nd 
Ohio  Volunteer  Infantry,  read  the  poem,  in  the 
Atlantic^  and  was  so  impressed  with  the  lines 
that  he  committed  them  to  memory,  before  rising 
from  his  chair.  He  took  the  song  with  him  to 
the  front ;  and  finally,  to  that  dismal  place  of  con- 
finement, Libby  Prison,  where  he  was  sent,  after 
being  captured  at  Winchester. 

There,  when  the  news  leaked,  through  a  negro 
servant  who  brought  food  for  the  prisoners,  that 
the  Battle  of  Gettysburg  had  resulted  in  a  victory 
for  the  Northern  forces,  gaunt  men  leaped  to 
their  feet,  shouting  and  embracing  one  another  in 
a  frenzy  of  joy  and  triumph.  And  Chaplain  Mc- 
Cabe, standing  in  the  middle  of  that  great,  bar- 
ren room,  lifted  up  his  powerful  voice  and  sang, 

"Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of 
the  Lord;"  till  every  voice  took  up  the  chorus; 
and  the  walls  of  Libby  Prison  resounded  with 
the  gladsome  shout  of 

^'Glory,  Glory,  Hallelujah!" 


156        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

After  his  release,  Chaplain  McCabe  came  to 
Washington;  where,  before  a  large  audience,  he 
told  of  how  the  federal  prisoners  had  been  in- 
spired by  the  hymn.  And  when  he  came  to  that 
night  in  Libby  Prison,  and  sang  the  ''Battle 
Hymn"  once  more,  the  effect  was  like  magic. 
While  above  the  tumult  of  applause,  came  the 
voice  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  pleading,  as  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  ''Sing  it  again!" 

Following  her  husband's  death,  in  1876,  Mrs. 
Howe  spent  much  time  in  lecturing  and  travelling. 
She  was  also  a  member  of  a  large  number  of 
women's  clubs.  As  a  speaker,  special  mention 
is  made  of  her  measured,  musical  speech.  She 
was  also  a  Unitarian  minister,  and  active  in  the 
work  of  that  denomination ;  she  did  much  for  the 
cause  of  liberal  thought,  at  a  time  when  such  a 
stand  required  much  moral  courage. 

Those  who  knew  her  intimately,  said  that  her 
unfailing  optimism  was  the  great  source  and  sup- 
port of  her  manifold  activities.  For  she  never 
grew  old  at  heart,  and  in  her  beautiful  old  age,  she 
retained  her  brilliant  intellectual  powers. 

At  the  age  of  ninety,  she  came  to  New  York, 
to  read  a  patriotic  poem,  at  the  Hudson-Fulton 
celebration.  And  at  ninety-one,  she  received 
from  Smith  College,  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Let- 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC     157 

ters;  appearing  at  the  exercises  of  that  occasion, 
in  a  wheel-chair. 

The  end  came  peacefully,  at  her  summer  home, 
near  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  October  17,  1910. 
It  is  given  to  but  few  of  us  to  live  so  long  and  so 
distinguished  a  life  as  did  Julia  Ward  Howe. 
She  possessed,  in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  gentle 
art  of  growing  old  gracefully.  When  she  was 
nearing  the  end  of  her  span  of  years,  she  confided 
to  a  friend  that  the  world  grew  constantly  more 
interesting  to  her.  "The  bowl  of  life,''  she  added, 
*'grew  sweeter  as  she  drank  it;  all  the  sugar  was 
at  the  bottom.'' 

Asked  to  speak  of  her  masterpiece,  she  had  this 
to  say : 

'The  wild  echoes  of  that  fearful  struggle  have 
long  since  died  away ;  and  with  them,  all  memories 
of  unkindness  between  ourselves  and  our  south- 
ern brethren.  But  those  who  once  loved  my 
hymn,  still  sing  it.  I  hope  and  believe  that  it 
stands  for  what  our  w^hole  country  now  believes 
in, — that  is, — the  sacredness  of  human  liberty. 

"My  poem  did  some  service  in  the  Civil  War. 
I  wish  very  much  that  it  may  do  good  service  in 
the  Peace,  which  I  pray  God,  may  never  more 
be  broken." 


WE  ARE  COMING,  FATHER  ABRAHAM 


THREE  HUNDRED  THOUSAND  MORE 

J.  S.  Gibbons. 

Wc  are  coming,  Fatlier  Abram,  three  hundred  thousand  more, 
From    Mississippi's   winding   stream   and    from    New    England's 

shore ; 
We  leave  our  ploughs  and  workshops,  our  wives  and  children 

dear, 
With  hearts  too  full  for  utterance,  with  but  a  silent  tear ; 
We  dare  not  look  behind  us,  but  steadfastly  before. 
We  are  coming,  Father  Abram,  three  hundred  thousand  more! 

If  3^ou  look  across  the  hilltops  that  meet  the  northern  sky, 
Long  moving  lines  of  rising  dust  3'our  vision  may  descry ; 
And  now  the  wind  an  instant  tears  the  cloudy  veil  aside, 
And  floats  aloft  our  spangled  tlag,  in  glory  and  in  pride; 
And  bayonets  in  the  sunlight  gleam,  and  bantls  brave  nvrsic  pour. 
We  are  coming,  Father  Abram,  three  hundred  thousand  more ! 

If  you  look  all  up  our  valleys  where  the  growing  harvests  shine, 
You  may  see  our  sturdy  farmer  boys  fast  forming  into  line ; 
And  children  from  their  mothers'  knees  are  pulling  at  the  weeds, 
And  learning  how  to  reap  and  sow,  against  their  country's  needs; 
And  a  farewell  group  stands  weeping  at  every  cottage  door — 
We  are  coming.  Father  Abram,  three  hundred  thousand  more! 

You   have  called   us  and   we're  coming,  by  Richmond's  bloody 

tide, 
To  lay  us  down  for  freedom's  sake,  our  brothers'  bones  beside; 
Or  from  foul  treason's  savage  grasp  to  wrench  the  murderous 

blade, 
And  in  the  face  of  foreign  foes  its  fragments  to  parade. 
Six  hundred  thousand  loyal  men  and  true  have  gone  before — 
We  are  coming,  Father  Abram,  three  hundred  thousand  more! 


WE  ARE  CO.MIXG,  FATHER  ABRAHAM 

A  WAR  song  written  by  a  Quaker  sounds  like  an 
absurdity.  For  not  only  do  the  Friends  discour- 
age, as  a  rule,  the  art  of  music,  as  being  among 
the  vanities  of  a  frivolous  world,  but,  according 
to  one  of  their  most  emphatic  tenets,  a  member  of 
that  faith  is  bound  to  make  it  a  matter  of  con- 
science to  condemn  all  war,  as  inconsistent  with 
the  precept  and  spirit  of  the  Gospel.  Yet  a  Hick- 
site  Quaker  was  the  author  of  this  ringing  call  to 
arms  which  helped  greatly  to  promote  the  patri- 
otic uprising  it  declared.  He  had  a  reasonable 
leaning  toward  wrath,  however,  in  cases  of  emer- 
gency, as  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  James  H.  Morse, 
neatly  put  it,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend. 

We  are  apt  to  forget,  that  active  opposition 
to  slavery  originated,  not  in  the  relentless  con- 
science of  the  Puritan,  nor  yet  in  the  less  rigid 
moral  sense  of  the  Cavalier,  but  among  the  peace- 
loving  Quakers,  whom  both  so  cruelly  perse- 
cuted. As  early  as  1688,  some  of  the  followers 
of  William  Penn  declared  that  the  buying,  selling 

and  holding  men  in  bondage,  all  these  three,  were 

161 


i62        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

irreconcilable  with  the  principles  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion. 

The  very  first  vote  against  slavery  was  in  1688, 
by  the  monthly  assembly  of  Germantown  Quak- 
ers. The  minutes  of  that  meeting  were  sent  to 
the  yearly  meeting  at  quaint  old  Burlington,  N.  J. 
But  this  larger  body  declined  to  confirm  the  stand 
taken  by  their  brethren  of  near  Philadelphia.  At 
this  time,  and  for  long  after,  the  agitation  against 
slavery  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  Quakers ;  who 
were  as  persistent  in  their  beliefs,  as  they  were 
unobtrusive  in  their  worship. 

A  century  and  a  half  had  not  changed  their 
attitude,  in  the  least;  and  James  Sloan  Gibbons, 
born  July  ist,  1810,  in  Wilmington,  Del.,  and 
brother  of  Dr.  Henry  Gibbons,  had  already  joined 
the  abolition  movement  in  1830,  when  he  was 
barely  twenty  years  old.  Three  years  later,  he 
married  Abigail  Hopper,  a  daughter  of  Isaac  T. 
Hopper,  the  Quaker  philanthropist.  Born  in 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  she  had  received  a  liberal  edu- 
cation, and  had  taught,  both  in  her  native  city,  and 
in  New  York. 

In  1834,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gibbons  settled  in  New 
York;  where  he  became  associated  with  the  banks 
and  finance  in  that  city ;  and  she  at  once  began  to 
be  prominent  in  charitable  work.     In  1845,  she 


WE  ARE  COMING  163 

aided  her  father  in  organizing  the  Women's 
Prison  Association,  and  the  father  and  daughter 
cooperated  in  founding  the  Isaac  T.  Hopper 
Home  for  discharged  prisoners.  For  twelve  years 
she  was  president  of  a  German  industrial  home 
for  street  children. 

Mr.  Gibbons  was  the  author  of  ''The  Banks  of 
New  York,"  and  "The  Public  Debt  of  the  United 
States."  He  w^as  a  pioneer  in  the  movement  for 
preserving  the  forests ;  and,  always  a  notable  abo- 
litionist, for  a  short  time  he  was  one  of  the  edi- 
tors of  the  "Anti-Slavery  Standard."  He  and 
his  family  did  not  hesitate  to  put  their  creed  into 
their  deed.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  w^ar,  the  good 
wife  and  mother,  took  her  eldest  daughter  with 
her,  and  went  directly  to  the  front,  where  they 
worked  in  camp  and  in  hospital,  until  the  end  of 
the  conflict. 

In  1863,  during  the  anti-war,  or  draft  riots,  in 
New  York,  their  home  was  one  of  the  first  to  be 
sacked  by  the  mob.  Mr.  Gibbons  and  the  two 
younger  daughters  were  compelled  to  take  refuge 
with  relatives  in  the  house  next  door  but  one,  and 
from  there,  over  the  roofs  to  Eighth  Avenue, 
where  Mr.  Joseph  H.  Choate  had  a  carriage  in 
waiting  for  them. 

Their  house  was  particularly  singled  out  for 


i64        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

this  attention,  because  both  husband  and  wife  had 
been  zealous  in  the  cause  of  negro  freedom,  and 
because  it  had  been  illuminated,  when  the  Emanci- 
pation Proclamation  was  issued. 

On  that  occasion  it  had  been  well  daubed,  and 
defiled  with  coal  tar.  This  goes  to  show  how  lit- 
tle sympathy  New  York  City  had  with  the  anti- 
slavery  feeling. 

It  is  stated  that  in  1861,  the  mayor,  Fernando 
Wood,  had  proposed  to  the  Common  Council,  that 
should  there  be  a  separation  of  the  states,  the  city 
should  declare  itself  independent  of  them  all. 
Neither  side  seems,  at  the  outset,  to  have  fore- 
seen the  result  of  secession.  The  Northerners 
had  heard  the  threat  of  separation  so  often,  that 
they  had  at  last  come  to  look  upon  it  as  no  more 
than  an  empty  menace  made  to  extort  political 
concessions.  The  South,  emboldened  by  Buchan- 
an's weakness,  and  trusting  to  their  alliance  with 
Northern  Democrats,  had  already  seized  some 
forts  and  other  United  States  property  in  the 
Southern  states,  before  the  retirement  of  our 
wavering  fifteenth  President. 

The  campaign  of  i860  was  the  most  confused 
in  the  whole  history  of  American  politics. 

Rumors  of  secession  filled  the  air.  The  South 
was  openly  making  preparations  for  war.     Four 


WE  ARE  COMING  165 

presidential  candidates  were  in  the  field.  And 
when  Abraham  Lincoln  was  elected  sixteenth 
president  by  a  popular  vote  of  1,866,352,  South 
Carolina  promptly  seceded;  and  thereby  opened 
wide  the  flood-gates  of  disunion. 

Feeling  ran  so  high  that  when  Mr.  Lincoln  ar- 
rived at  Washington,  on  the  twenty-third  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1861,  he  narrowly  escaped  a  concerted  plot 
for  his  assassination  at  Baltimore,  by  taking  an 
earlier  train  than  that  by  which  he  was  expected 
to  arrive.  At  that  time,  he  was  somewhat  of  a 
stranger  to  the  country  at  large.  More  especially 
was  he  unknown  to  the  southern  people,  who  re- 
garded him  solely  as  an  Abolitionist,  then  the 
vilest  of  mortals,  in  their  estimation.  But  his 
inaugural  address  was  couched  in  the  most  win- 
ning and  conciliatory  language.  There  was  even 
affectionate  pleading,  in  his  concluding  sentences : 
''I  am  loth  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies,  but 
friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies.  Though  pas- 
sion may  have  strained,  it  must  not  break,  our 
bonds  of  affection.  The  mystic  chords  of  mem- 
ory, stretching  from  every  battlefield  and  pa- 
triot grave,  to  every  living  heart  and  hearthstone, 
all  over  this  broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the  chorus 
of  the  Union — when  again  touched — as  surely 
they  will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our  nature.'* 


1 66        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

It  was  still  believed  that  the  secession  fever  so 
bitterly  excited  in  South  Carolina,  would  not 
spread  beyond  the  boundaries  of  that  state.  The 
people  of  the  Northern  free  states  went  about 
their  daily  occupations  assured  that  this  episode 
would  also  pass  away,  as  others  had  done,  and 
they  treated  the  idea  of  Civil  War  in  this  land  of 
liberty,  as  a  pure  folly. 

Even  when  the  Confederate  Government  seized 
Federal  arsenals  and  forts  within  the  territory  of 
the  seceding  states,  public  opinion  was  still  so  di- 
vided in  the  North,  that,  generally  speaking,  the 
spirit  of  patriotism  lay  dormant.  Nothing  short 
of  an  actual  blow  would  produce  the  vitalizing 
spark.  That  blow  was  the  first  cannon-ball  fired 
against  Fort  Sumter,  commanding  the  entrance  to 
Charleston  Harbor. 

That  memorable  first  shot  was  fired  from  the 
Cummings  Point  battery,  by  an  aged  secessionist 
of  the  most  rabid  type, — Edmund  Ruffin, — who 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Virginia,  to  beg  the 
privilege.  So  vehement  was  he  for  the  Confed- 
eracy, that,  just  before  the  end  of  the  war,  when 
the  ruin  of  the  Confederate  cause  became  appa- 
rent, he  committed  suicide.  However,  on  that 
historic  Friday,  April  12th,  1861,  the  answering 
shot  was  fired  from  Fort  Sumter,  by  Captain, 


WE  ARE  COMING  167 

afterward  General  Abner  Doubleday,  and  Civil 
War  was  actually  begun. 

When  Monday  dawned,  April  15th,  there  rang 
out  the  voice  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  calling  for  75,- 
000  volunteers  for  three  months.  These  were  for 
the  protection  of  Washington,  and  the  property 
of  the  Government.  All  who  were  in  arms 
against  the  nation  were  commanded  to  return 
home  in  twenty  days,  and  Congress  was  sum- 
moned to  meet  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 

No  stimulus  was  needed.  The  call  of  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  loyal  states  met  with  so  generous 
a  response,  that  ten  times  75,000  volunteers  could 
have  been  furnished,  had  they  been  asked  for. 
Recruiting  offices  were  opened  in  every  city,  town 
and  village.  Everywhere  the  sound  of  the  fife 
and  drum  thrilled  the  air  with  their  vibrant  ap- 
peal. The  plow  was  left  in  the  furrow,  the  car- 
penter turned  from  the  bench ;  the  student  closed 
his  books,  the  lawyer  forsook  his  clients ;  and  even 
the  clergyman  exchanged  his  pulpit  for  the  life  of 
camp  and  tented  field.  For  well  as  the  people 
of  the  United  States  loved  their  Government  and 
their  history,  they  had  neither  army  nor  yet  navy 
adequate  to  meet  so  grave  a  crisis.  Long  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  war,  the  militia  organizations 
in  most  of  the  Northern  states  had  been  practi- 


i68        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

cally  abandoned,  and  the  regular  army  could  not 
be  depended  upon  to  suppress  the  Rebellion,  as 
General  Winfield  Scott,  then  commander-in-chief, 
had  supposed ;  as  many  of  its  officers  sympathized 
with  the  South ;  and  those  who  lived  there,  with  a 
few  notable  exceptions,  accepted  commissions  in 
the  Confederate  army. 

General  Robert  E.  Lee  at  first  refused  to  quit 
the  service  of  the  United  States,  in  which  he  had 
discharged  his  duties  with  honor  and  credit;  but 
he  finally  ''went  with  his  state,"  Virginia.  An- 
other Virginian,  "Stonewall  Jackson,"  was  a  grad- 
uate of  West  Point,  but  developed  into  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  characters  on  the  Confederate 
side  of  the  Civil  War;  for  he  lived,  prayed,  dis- 
ciplined, and  fought,  with  all  the  rigidity  and 
strenuousness  born  of  his  Presbyterian  creed,  and 
his  Scotch-Irish  ancestors. 

With  this  swift  melting  of  the  regular  army, 
arose  a  new  and  very  grave  problem ;  for  it  was 
found  that  there  were  not  enough  left  of  the  com- 
missioned men  loyal  to  the  Federal  Government, 
to  officer  the  new  regiments,  and  it  was  upon  the 
volunteers  that  the  administration  was  forced  to 
rely,  for  the  material  with  which  to  fill  up  the 
rank  and  file  as  well. 

The  South  was  really  better  prepared  than  the 


WE  ARE  COMING  169 

North.  As  stated  before,  in  every  state,  particu- 
larly west  of  the  Alleghanies,  the  militia  had 
fallen  into  undisguised  contempt.  In  conse- 
quence the  old-fashioned  militia  musters  had  been 
entirely  given  up. 

It  was  very  difficult  to  arm  and  equip  the  75,- 
000  three-months  troops.  An  Indiana  volun- 
teer remarks  that  there  were  not  enough  muskets 
in  the  whole  of  his  state  to  arm  a  single  regi- 
ment; to  say  nothing  of  uniforms,  tents,  knap- 
sacks and  other  necessary  equipment;  although 
the  quota  of  the  company  was  filled,  almost  as 
fast  as  the  men  could  write  their  names.  ''We 
did  not  wait  for  uniforms,  but  were  all  rigged  out 
in  red  shirts.  The  loyal  ladies  of  the  town  pre- 
sented us  with  a  beautiful  silk  banner,  and  we 
were  ready  to  march.  It  was  generally  thought 
the  flurry  would  soon  blow  over.  And  the  Sec- 
retary of  State,  William  H.  Seward,  in  whose  sa- 
gacity we  had  unbounded  confidence,  predicted 
that  the  war  would  end  in  sixty  days." 

Simon  Cameron,  Secretary  of  W^ar,  laughed 
heartily  at  Sherman's  idea  that  it  would  take  two 
hundred  thousand  men  to  recover  the  Mississippi 
States  alone.  He  said  openly,  that  Sherman  was 
crazy,  and  unfit  for  any  military  command. 

The  first  troops  to  arrive  in  Washington  were 


170        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

530  Pennsylvanians,  who  were  there  on  the  19th 
of  April.  They  were  mostly  unarmed.  They 
had  left  their  homes  in  great  haste,  and  their 
actual  number  was  not  large  enough  to  make 
them  very  formidable  under  any  circumstances. 
But  their  arrival  was  magnified  in  importance, 
and  they  were  quartered  in  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. 

On  May  3rd  the  President  issued  another  proc- 
lamation calling  for  42,000  three-year  volun- 
teers. When  the  three  months  volunteers  were 
discharged,  many  of  the  companies  immediately 
reenlisted  in  a  body  for  three  years,  sometimes 
under  their  old  officers.  These  three-months 
men  had  gained  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  manual 
of  arms,  and  of  camping  and  regimental  evolu- 
tions. And  to  those  who  became  officers,  the 
military  experience,  limited  as  it  was,  proved  of 
great  value  in  enabling  them  to  drill  and  discipline 
the  troops  over  whom  they  were  placed  in  com- 
mand. 

The  men  of  the  North  were  eager  to  enlist,  but 
they  preferred  to  serve  with  their  neighbors,  and 
under  officers  whom  they  knew.  The  first  seri- 
ous trouble  arose  in  equipping  them  for  active 
service. 

The  disaster  of  Bull  Run  occurred  on  July  21st, 


WE  ARE  COMING  171 

1 861.  Its  effect  was  to  throw  the  North  into  a 
panic.  It  meant  that  going  to  war  was  no  longer 
like  going  to  a  picnic ;  but  that  a  tremendous  effort 
must  be  made  by  the  North  or  the  Union  would 
be  shattered  forever. 

The  nation  and  the  individual  had  yet  to  learn 
the  terrible  truth  contained  in  General  Sherman's 
terse  definition  of  war. 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1861,  im- 
portant operations  went  forward  in  the  west ;  and 
much  time  was  consumed  in  disciplining  troops. 
The  armies  of  the  West,  and  the  army  of  the  Po- 
tomac, were  as  yet  rather  vast  camps  of  instruc- 
tion than  armies  in  the  field.  Mass  meetings 
were  held,  all  through  the  loyal  states,  to  incite 
the  raising  of  more  troops  for  the  cause,  and  the 
pledging  of  more  funds  for  the  outfitting  and  care 
of  those  who  were  to  fight  the  battles  of  the 
Union. 

We  are  not  especially  a  musical  nation.  But 
many  inspiriting  songs  were  written  and  sung,  to 
''swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union,"  and  to  express 
the  patriotic  determination  of  those  who  were 
still  faithful  to  it. 

The  Civil  War  was  eminently  a  people's  war; 
and  in  the  camp,  on  the  march,  and  at  the  public 
meetings  at  home,  choirs  improvised  for  the  oc- 


172        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

casion  sang  the  ''Red,  White  and  Blue,"  and 
''Rally  Round  the  Flag,"  until  quite  too  hoarse 
for  further  endeavor.  Even  the  hospitals  were 
enlivened  by  patriotic  songs,  while  war  songs  re- 
sounded in  the  streets  of  cities,  towns  and  ham- 
lets. It  was  not  the  least  of  "Little  Phil"  Sheri- 
dan's cleverness,  that  his  military  bands  were 
usually  mounted  on  gray  horses;  and  instead  of 
being  relegated  to  the  usual  duty  of  carrying  off 
the  wounded,  and  assisting  the  surgeons,  they 
were  brought  to  the  front,  "and  made  to  play  the 
liveliest  airs  in  their  repertory,"  writes  General 
Porter,  "and  with  great  effect  on  the  spirits  of 
the  men." 

The  year  1862  has  been  called  the  year  of  dis- 
couragement. And  it  was  during  those  dark 
days,  just  after  Lincoln  had  issued  the  proclama- 
tion asking  for  three  hundred  thousand  volun- 
teers to  fill  up  the  stricken  ranks  of  the  army,  and 
to  carry  out  the  insistent  popular  cry  which  urged 
it  "On  to  Richmond,"  that  Mr.  Gibbons  wrote 

"We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  Three  hundred  thou- 
sand more." 

He  was  best  known  as  a  writer  on  financial  topics, 
although  like  most  of  us,  he  had  written  some 
verse.     At  this  time,  he  used  to  take  long  walks 


WE  ARE  COMING  173 

alone,  often  talking  aloud  to  himself.  "I  began 
to  con  over  a  song/'  he  says,  in  the  account  of 
the  circumstances  under  which  he  wrote  the 
verses.  'The  words  seemed  to  fall  into  ranks 
and  files,  and  to  come  with  a  measured  step.  Di- 
rectly, there  would  come  along  a  company  of 
soldiers,  with  fife  and  drum,  which  helped  the 
matter  along  amazingly.  I  began  to  keep  step 
myself — three-hundred-thousand — more.  It  was 
very  natural  to  answer  the  President's  call — 'We 
are  coming' — ,  and  to  prefix  the  term  'father/ 
Then  the  line  would  follow, 

"  'We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,' 

and  nothing  was  more  natural  than  to  add  the 
number  of  soldiers  wanted, 

**  Three  hundred  thousand  more.' 

again,— 

**  *We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred  thou- 
sand more.' 

Where  from?     Shore  is  the  rhyme  wanted." 

Just  then  Mr.  Gibbons  happened  to  meet  "a 
Western  regiment;  it  was  from  Minnesota,  and 
the  next  line  came  at  once  in  full. 

"  Trom  Mississippi's  winding  stream, 
And  from  New  England's  shore.' 


174        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Two  lines  in  full.  Then  followed,  how  natur- 
ally! 

"  'We  leave  our  plows  and  workshops, 
Our  wives  and  children  dear ; 
With  hearts  too  full  for  utterance, 
With  but  a  silent  tear.' 

And  so  it  went  on,  word  by  word,  line  by  line, 
until  the  whole  song  was  made."  Only  one  slight 
verbal  alteration  was  made,  and  then  it  was 
printed  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post  of  July 
1 6th,  1862. 

As  Mr.  Gibbons's  song  appeared  anonymously, 
its  authorship  was  at  once  ascribed  to  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  who  was  then  the  editor  of  the 
Evening  Post;  and  as  the  oldest  of  the  greater 
American  poets  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War, 
he  had  been  prominent  for  many  years  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  anti-slavery.  At  a  large  meeting  in 
Boston,  held  the  evening  after  it  had  appeared, 
it  was  read  by  Josiah  Quincy,  as  "the  latest  poem 
written  by  Mr.  William  C.  Bryant."  And  as 
supposedly  one  of  Air.  Bryant's  productions,  it 
was  set  to  music  by  a  member  of  the  celebrated 
Hutchinson  family,  and  sung  by  them  with  great 
effect.  It  was  copied  into  many  other  publica- 
tions, both  daily  and  weekly,  and  was  set  to  music 
by  several  other  composers,  most  of  whom  had 


WE  ARE  COMING  175 

concluded  that  it  was  Bryant's  until  that  gentle- 
man declared,  over  his  own  signature,  that  it  was 
not  from  his  pen,  "but  from  that  of  James  S. 
Gibbons,  of  this  city." 

The  song  soon  became  a  great  favorite ;  and  an 
anecdote  of  Lincoln  tells  of  his  coming  down  to 
the  Red  Room  of  the  White  House,  one  morning 
in  the  summer  of  1864,  to  listen  with  bowed  head 
and  pensive,  patient  eyes,  while  one  of  a  party  of 
visitors  sang, 

"We  are  coming,  Father  Abraham,  three  hundred  thou- 
sand more." 

For  in  spite  of  the  great  burden  of  responsibility 
placed  upon  him,  no  president  was  ever  more  ap- 
proachable than  was  Lincoln. 

Among  her  other  good  deeds,  Mr.  Gibbons's 
wife,  after  the  war  founded  a  labor  and  aid  as- 
sociation for  soldiers'  widows  and  orphans.  It 
has  been  justly  said  of  this  estimable  Quaker  lady, 
that  her  life  was  one  of  singular  purity  and  exal- 
tation; and  that  nearly  all  the  prominent  philan- 
thropies of  New  York  bear  the  impress  of  her 
spirit  and  hand. 

Death  did  not  separate  the  worthy  husband 
and  wife,  by  many  months;  as  he  died  in  1892; — 
she  following  him  on  January  13th,  1893.     To- 


176       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

gether  they  had  formed  such  a  patriotic  house- 
hold, that  we  may  well  be  equally  proud  of  them 
both,  as  typifying  the  ideal  American  citizenhood. 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA 

H.  C.  Work. 

Bring  the  good  old  bugle,  boys!  we'll  sing  another  song — 
Sing  it  with  a  spirit  that  will  start  the  world  along — 
Sing  it  as  we  used  to  sing  it,  fifty  thousand  strong, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

CHORUS 

Hurrah!  hurrah  I  we  bring  the  jubilee! 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  the  flag  that  makes  you  free ! 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

How  the  darkies  shouted  when  they  heard  the  joyful  sound! 
How  the  turkeys  gobbled  which  our  commissary  found! 
How  the  sweet  potatoes  even  started  from  the  ground, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

Yes,  and  there  were  Union  men  who  wept  with  joyful  tears, 
When  they  saw  the  honored  flag  they  had  not  seen  for  years; 
Hardly  could  they  be  restrained  from  breaking  forth  in  cheers. 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

"Sherman's  dashing  Yankee  boys  will  never  reach  the  coast!" 
So  the  saucy  rebels  said,  and  'twas  a  handsome  boast. 
Had  they  not  forgot,  alas,  to  reckon  with  the  host. 

While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 

So  we  made  a  thoroughfare  for  freedom  and  her  train, 
Sixty  miles  in  latitude — three  hundred  to  the  main ; 
Treason  fled  before  us,  for  resistance  was  in  vain, 
While  we  were  marching  through  Georgia. 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA 

Our  '^Marching  Through  Georgia,"  was  sung 
by  practically  all  the  armies  engaged  in  the  great- 
est war  of  history.  It  has  long  been  a  favorite  in 
the  British  Army;  as  both  officers  and  men  delight 
in  the  martial  strains  that  commemorate  Sher- 
man's exploits. 

A  London  dispatch  of  September,  1914,  men- 
tions among  the  striking  incidents  of  that  day,  the 
passage  of  a  Highland  regiment  through  the 
Strand,  to  the  music  of  ''Marching  Through 
Georgia."  This  lively  tune  puts  quickness  into 
the  most  laggard  feet,  and  has  been  pronounced 
the  most  ringing  and  swinging  of  all  the  songs  of 
the  Civil  War. 

The  words  have  been  censured  as  lacking  dis- 
tinction and  literary  merit;  but  the  same  critic 
admits  that  they  serve  to  carry  the  tune,  and  that 
the  tune  is  well  worth  carrying;  for  this  brisk  air 
has  a  very  captivating  rhythm. 

Although  it  was  looked  upon  as  the  most  strik- 
ing episode  of  this  war, — instead  of  being  flat- 
tered, General  Sherman  himself  seems  to  have 

179 


i8o       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

resented  the  celebration  of  the  March  to  the  Sea, 
in  song  and  story,  on  the  ground  that  it  directed 
attention  from  other,  and  what  he  considered,  far 
greater  strategic  movements,  and  from  successful 
fighting  in  the  final  epoch  of  the  war. 

The  story  goes,  that  General  Sherman  was 
stopping  for  a  time  at  a  Washington  hotel,  when 
an  intimate  friend  called  to  see  him,  one  even- 
ing. During  their  conversation,  a  band  came 
to  serenade  the  General.  He  and  his  friend 
stepped  out  on  the  veranda,  and  the  band  struck 
up,  "Marching  Through  Georgia."  The  friend 
turned  to  the  grim  old  chieftain  and  asked, 
"General,  confidentially,  what  is  your  private 
opinion  of  that  piece  of  music?"  The  General 
looked  quizzical  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied; 
"If  I  had  thought,  when  I  made  that  march,  that 
it  would  have  inspired  any  one  to  compose  the 
piece, — I  would  have  marched  around  the  State." 

And  yet,  during  those  November  and  October 
days  of  '64,  the  camps  in  the  open  pine  woods,  the 
bonfires  along  the  railways,  the  occasional  sham 
battles  at  night,  with  blazing  pine-knots  for 
weapons  whirling  in  the  darkness,  all  these, — a 
participant  insists, — combined  to  leave  upon  the 
minds  of  officers  and  men  the  impression  of  a  vast 
holiday  frolic. 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     i8i 

In  reunions  of  the  veterans,  since  the  war,  this 
campaign  has  always  seemed  more  of  a  romantic 
dream,  than  an  actual  fact.  And  no  chorus  rings 
out  with  quite  so  joyous  a  swell,  as  when  they 
join  in  the  refrain, 

"As  we  were  marching  through  Georgia." 

Such  a  prime  favorite  has  this  war  ballad  be- 
come, especially  with  the  old  soldier,  and  the  mili- 
tary band,  that  it  is  sometimes  called  "The  Ameri- 
can Marseillaise."  The  tune  is  peculiarly  fresh 
and  spirited,  so  that  it  bids  fair,  together  with 
"John  Brown's  Body"  and  "The  Battle  Cry  of 
Freedom,"  to  be  the  chief  musical  legacy  of  the 
war.  ^^'hile  these  two  came  at  the  beginning  of 
the  contest,  and  the  Georgia  song  was  not  possible 
until  near  the  end,  yet  the  swinging  rhythm  of 
the  tune,  and  the  homely  straightforwardness  of 
the  words,  coupled  with  the  circumstance  of  its 
commemorating  perhaps  the  most  striking  epi- 
sode of  the  war,  gave  instant  popularity  to  the 
song. 

It  was  written  and  composed,  in  1865,  by 
Henry  Clay  Work,  a  popular  song  writer,  born 
in  1832,  October  ist,  at  Middletown,  Conn.,  of 
Scottish  origin.  This  man  from  the  Nutmeg 
State  was  not  yet  thirty  years  of  age  w^hen  he 


i82        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

published  this  ballad.  He  was  the  author  and 
composer  of  two  other  songs  which  rivalled  it  in 
popularity  at  the  time;  ''Drafted  into  the  Army," 
and  ''Brave  Boys  Are  They/'  the  chorus  of  which 
was  equally  applicable  in  those  troublous  days,  to 
the  homes  on  either  side  of  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line. 

"Brave  boys  are  they, 

Gone  at  their  country's  call ; 
And  yet  and  yet,  we  cannot  forget, 
That  many  brave  boys  must  fall." 

Henry  Work  so  resembled  Stephen  C.  Foster, 
the  composer  of  "Old  Folks  at  Home"  in  his  knack 
of  reflecting  the  folk  flavor  of  the  plaintive  negro 
rhythms,  that  some  of  his  best  songs  seem,  as  one 
writer  suggests,  like  actual  echoes  from  the  cotton 
field  and  levee.  "Wake,  Nicodemus,"  "Kingdom 
Coming,"  and  "Babylon  is  Fallen,"  especially 
have  this  savor  of  the  soil. 

It  is  a  singular  thing  that  this  man,  who  seems 
to  have  had  scarcely  any  musical  education, 
should  have  written  successful  songs,  even  in  his 
boyhood;  and  he  was  probably  the  composer  who 
won  the  most  decided  popularity  with  his  later 
songs  during  the  Civil  War  times.  But  Work 
was  an  earnest  man,  and  it  was  only  natural  that 
he  should  be  a  strong  partisan  in  politics,  for  his 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     183 

father  had  been  a  sufferer  in  the  cause  of  Aboli- 
tion. W^hen  Henry  was  a  child,  the  family  had 
removed  to  Illinois,  where  he  received  but  an 
irregular  education,  and  had  the  bitter  unhappi- 
ness  of  seeing  his  father  imprisoned  for  his  anti- 
slavery  views,  during  that  Western  stay. 

When  he  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  he 
was  taken  back  to  Connecticut,  and  greatly  to  his 
delight,  was  apprenticed  to  a  printer.  The  per- 
sistency inherited  with  his  Scotch  blood  stood  the 
lad  in  good  stead.  While  working  faithfully  at 
the  case,  he  somehow  managed  to  find  time  for 
the  self-taught  study  of  harmony.  His  first  song 
belongs  to  this  period,  and  is  said  to  have  brought 
him  $25.00. 

He  often  composed  the  words  of  a  song  at  the 
''case"  as  he  set  up  the  type;  and  then,  when  he 
had  access  to  music  t3^pe,  he  would  also  compose, 
in  his  mind,  and  set  up  the  music ;  these  pieces  sel- 
dom requiring  more  than  two  or  three  alterations. 
''Marching  Through  Georgia"  is  probably  unique 
among  the  war  songs  of  the  world,  as  being  thus 
composed  "free-hand,"  without  appearing  in 
manuscript. 

Among  two  or  three  hundred  others,  the  most 
popular  of  Work's  productions,  for  a  brief  period, 
were  "Father,  Dear  Father,  Come  Home,"  "Loss 


i84        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

of  the  Lady  Elgin,"  "Lily  Dale,"  and  "^ly  Grand- 
father's Clock."  This  last  is  said  to  have 
brought  him  a  handsome  return. 

In  1865,  he  was  able  to  go  abroad;  and  upon 
his  return,  he  invested  his  fortune,  which  was 
then  considerable,  in  fruit-growing  in  Vineland, 
N.  J.  Unhappily,  both  financial  and  domestic 
misfortunes  overtook  him,  and  he  returned  to 
New  York,  where  he  was  connected  as  composer, 
with  Mr.  Cady,  of  the  former  firm  of  Root  and 
Cady,  music  publishers.  This  firm  had  held  the 
copyrights  of  all  his  songs,  but  had  lost  them,  to- 
gether with  their  other  property,  during  the  great 
fire  in  Chicago. 

Mr.  Cady  pluckily  re-established  business  in 
New  York,  and  in  quick  succession  brought  out 
the  songs  of  Mr.  Work, — which  had  large  sales. 

Mr.  Work  died  in  1884,  at  Hartford,  Conn., 
at  the  age  of  52,  his  ballads  having  proved 
a  pleasure  to  many  thousands.  "Marching 
Through  Georgia,"  followed,  not  many  months 
after  the  most  gloomy  period  in  the  North,  of  the 
entire  Civil  War;  the  year  1862,  and  the  first  half 
of  the  year  1863.  "Have  we  a  General  Among 
Us?"  wailed  an  editorial  of  Harper's  Weekly,  on 
January  17th.  And  in  those  days,  although  there 
were  fewer  newspapers,  they  wielded  a  more 
powerful  influence  than  at  present. 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     185 

In  the  dismal  months  that  followed  the  issue 
of  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  enthusiasm 
for  military  service  became  less  and  less.  In 
every  quarter,  the  Union  Cause  seemed  to  be 
dragging.  Every  unsuccessful  movement,  and 
chiefly  each  defeat  of  the  National  forces  in- 
creased the  strength  and  audacity  of  the  opposi- 
tion to  the  Government  and  the  war.  The  Union 
arms  had  not  given  the  satisfaction  which  the 
North  had  anticipated,  and  the  failures  were 
freely  laid  at  Lincoln's  door. 

When  Lincoln  named  Grant  as  Lieutenant- 
General  of  the  Federal  armies,  much  satisfaction 
was  expressed,  for  it  was  felt  that  at  last  the 
right  man  had  been  found  to  have  supreme  au- 
thority. He  took  command  in  March,  1864,  with 
his  headquarters  in  the  field,  which  speaks  vol- 
umes for  both  discipline  and  for  gaining  the 
men's  confidence  in  a  leader. 

General  Sherman  succeeded  Grant  in  command 
of  the  Division  of  the  Mississippi.  But  not  until 
November  of  that  year  did  he  find  opportunity  to 
put  in  execution  a  plan  which  he  had  conceived 
and  had  been  quietly  pondering,  for  a  long  time. 
Stated  briefly,  it  consisted  of  a  rapid  march  to 
the  sea, — the  occupation  of  some  harbor  capable 
of  becoming  a  fortified  base, — and  the  opening  of 


i86        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

lines  of  ocean  communication  with  the  great 
depots, — the  storehouses, — of  the  North.  He  in- 
tended to  abandon  Atlanta,  march  eastward 
through  central  Georgia,  seize  Savannah,  and 
establish  a  new  base  of  supplies. 

Accordingly,  he  organized  his  forces  in  two 
subordinate  armies ;  the  Right  Wing,  under  Gen- 
eral Howard,  retained  its  name,  ''The  Army  of 
the  Tennessee.''  ''The  Left  Wing,"  under  Gen- 
eral Slocum,  was  afterward  known  as  "The  Army 
of  Georgia.'*  There  was  also  a  division  of  cav- 
alry, under  General  Kilpatrick.  These  combined 
forces  numbered  55,329  infantry,  5,063  cavalry, 
and  1,812  artillery, — total  62,204, — officers  and 
men. 

Twenty  days'  rations  wxre  in  hand,  and  two 
hundred  rounds  of  ammunition  of  all  kinds  were 
in  the  wagons.  Droves  of  beef  cattle,  to  furnish 
the  meat  ration,  were  ready  to  accompany  the 
march.  For  the  rest,  as  General  Sherman's 
"Special  Field  Orders,  No.  120"  direct,  "The 
army  will  forage  liberally  on  the  country  during 
the  march,"  which  they  did.  A  little  further  on, 
he  continues,  "Soldiers  must  not  enter  the  dwell- 
ings of  the  inhabitants,  or  commit  any  trespass"; 
but  this  order  was  not  always  so  faithfully  ob- 
served, some  contend.     In  the  trains  there  were 


■r  o 

o  . 

< 

2  ^ 


2    .= 

<     - 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     187 

2,500  wagons  and  600  ambulances,  the  wagon 
train  of  each  corps  being  five  miles  long  when  on 
the  road. 

The  non-combatants,  the  sick  and  the  feeble 
were  sent  to  the  rear;  leaving  none  but  able- 
bodied  veterans  at  the  front.  On  November 
I2th,  the  last  railway  train  for  the  North  left 
Atlanta,  and  the  track  was  torn  up  for  many  miles 
as  soon  as  it  had  passed,  because  the  cutting 
off,  the  practical  separation  of  the  Gulf  States 
from  the  Carolinas,  and  from  railroad  communi- 
cation with  the  Confederate  Army  at  Richmond 
could  only  be  accomplished  by  a  great  and  thor- 
ough demolition  of  railway  lines  in  Georgia. 
This  had  been  a  very  important  part  of  Sher- 
man's scheme.  He  gave  it  his  own  personal  at- 
tention, and  spared  no  pains  to  do  it  thoroughly. 

He  speaks  with  considerable  pride  of  the  simple 
but  effective  way  in  which  even  the  materials 
were  rendered  unfit  for  further  use.  The  rails 
were  piled  upon  the  fires  made  of  cross-ties,  and 
in  half  an  hour  they  would  be  red-hot  in  the 
middle.  Seizing  one  by  the  two  ends,  the  soldiers 
would  either  twist  it  about  a  tree,  or  else  interlace 
and  twine  the  whole  pile  together,  in  great  iron 
knots,  making  them  useless  for  anything  but  old 
iron,  and  most  unmanageable  as  well  as  trouble- 
some, even  to  convey  away  to  a  mill. 


i88        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

The  great  march  began  on  November  fifteenth, 
when  the  army  cut  loose  from  the  outer  world, 
and  swung  boldly  toward  the  sea,  the  troops  mov- 
ing off  at  "route  step,"  with  guns  at  right  shift. 
Few  outside  of  general  headquarters  knew  their 
destination,  the  rank  and  file  giving  the  question 
but  little  thought. 

On  the  march,  the  chief  delight  of  the  soldiers 
was  the  ample  and  varied  supply  of  food  brought 
in  by  the  foragers.  They  consisted  of  a  picked 
force  from  each  regiment,  under  an  officer  care- 
fully selected  for  the  command.  For  the  greater 
part  of  the  way,  the  route  lay  through  a  good 
farming  region,  and  the  men  lived  upon  sweet 
potatoes,  hams,  fresh  pork  and  mutton,  with 
chickens  and  turkeys  in  abundance.  So  that  the 
words  of  the  song  are  not  at  all  imaginative,  on 
that  score.  At  evening  and  at  daybreak,  the  air 
about  the  camp-fires  was  redolent  with  savory 
smells,  "And  each  soldier  boy,"  observes  a  par- 
taker, "shouldered  his  musket  in  the  morning,  or 
lay  down  at  night,  with  a  satisfied,  comfortable 
feeling,  that  he  had  seldom  experienced  on  a 
march  before." 

Contrary  to  the  wish  of  Sherman,  the  negroes, 
eager  to  enjoy  their  new  found  freedom,  and  ex- 
ercise its  rights,  fiocked  to  the  columns  until  they 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     189 

became  a  serious  embarrassment,  as  their  pres- 
ence daily  added  to  the  number  to  be  fed.  Old 
and  young  men,  women  and  children,  they  came 
from  every  crossroad  and  plantation  on  the  route ; 
until  their  numbers  reached  into  thousands. 
Nearly  every  officer  retained  one  as  servant,  and 
each  mess  of  enlisted  men  took  one  along  as  cook. 
Many  of  the  able-bodied  blacks  were  employed  as 
teamsters,  while  large  parties  of  them  were  util- 
ized in  laying  corduroy  roads  through  the  mud 
and  swampy  places.  The  aged  negroes,  together 
with  the  women  and  children,  could  not  keep  up, 
yet  about  seven  thousand  still  accompanied  Slo- 
cum's  army  when  it  finally  reached  Savannah. 
But  the  Federal  troops  could  not  at  once  enter 
the  city,  which  was  then  a  place  of  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  inhabitants,  owing  to  swamps  and 
obstructed  roads  and  the  Confederate  General 
Hardee's  force. 

It  was  the  tenth  of  December,  1864,  when  the 
National  Army  closed  in  on  the  works  around  Sa- 
vannah. Food  was  getting  low,  as  Hardee's 
troops  had  nearly  exhausted  the  country,  which 
was  now  mainly  under  water.  At  Purisburg,  the 
pickets  were  all  afloat  in  boats  and  scows,  and  on 
rafts.  One  officer  tells  of  the  crest-fallen  for- 
agers who  could  bring  in  nothing  but  rice,  which 


190        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

became  distinctly  unpalatable  when  served  three 
times  a  day,  for  successive  weeks. 

From  the  time  when  Sherman's  army  com- 
menced its  march  from  ''Atlanta  to  the  Sea,"  on 
the  morning  of  November  15th,  until  it  arrived 
in  front  of  the  defenses  of  Savannah,  on  the 
tenth  of  December,  there  had  been  perfect  isola- 
tion; owing  to  the  destruction  of  the  railway, 
and  telegraph  lines.  During  this  interval,  no 
news  had  been  received  from  the  North,  except 
such  as  could  be  gleaned  from  Southern  papers 
picked  up  by  soldiers  on  the  line  of  their  march. 

The  Union  fleet  was  in  Ossabaw  Sound,  with 
supplies  of  food  and  much  needed  clothing,  and 
an  immense  mail,  containing  letters  from  home 
for  nearly  every  one  in  the  army,  ''from  the  com- 
manding general  down  to  the  private  soldier," 
writes  General  Slocum.  "But  communication 
with  that  fleet  was  blocked,  until  Fort  McAllis- 
ter, on  the  Ogeechee  River,  was  captured  by 
Hazen's  division  of  the  Fifteenth  Corps ;  that  was 
on  December  13th;  and  the  fifteenth  brought  us 
our  mails,  and  an  abundant  supply  of  food  and 
ammunition;  making  this  one  of  the  happiest 
days  experienced  by  the  men  of  Sherman's 
army." 

Not  until  the  21st  of  December,  did  Hardee 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     191 

formally  surrender,  after  destroying  the  navy 
yard,  and  a  great  store  of  ammunition. 

Sherman's  dispatch  to  Lincoln  reached  him  on 
Christmas  Eve,  and  read  as  follows, — "I  beg  to 
present  to  you  as  a  Christmas  gift,  the  city  of  Sa- 
vannah, with  one  hundred  and  fifty  guns,  and 
plenty  of  ammunition,  and  also  about  25,000  bales 
of  cotton." 

When  Savannah  was  reached,  the  great  num- 
bers of  colored  refugees  with  all  the  columns 
had  been  placed  on  the  Sea  Islands  under  the  care 
of  government  officers.  About  one  month  was 
spent  in  clothing  the  soldiers,  and  in  filling  the 
trains  with  ammunition  and  rations.  So  it  was 
late  in  January,  1865,  before  Sherman's  army, 
singing  "J^^^  Brown's  Body,"  crossed  the  Sa- 
vannah, and  entered  South  Carolina. 

There  was  more  fighting  during  the  movement 
through  the  Carolinas,  than  on  the  March  to  the 
Sea.  In  the  Battle  of  Bentonville,  N.  C,  alone, 
on  March  19th,  1865,  the  Federal  loss  was  esti- 
mated at  1646.  ''But,"  a  survivor  tells  us,  "as 
the  sun  broke  through  the  smoke  of  the  Battle  of 
Bentonville,  and  bathed  our  flag  in  a  flood  of 
glory, — from  our  triumphant  lines  the  old  Union 
cheer  burst  from  the  lips  of  veterans,  who  in 
grim  silence  had  fought  like  heroes,  and  splen- 


192        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

didly  won  the  last  battle  o£  Sherman's  Army." 
'Trom  Bentonville  (March  22nd),  we  marched 
to  Goldsboro  where  we  arrived,  ragged,  and  al- 
most barefooted,''  writes  a  Massachusetts  volun- 
teer. 

Sherman  was  now  in  communication  with 
Grant,  who  was  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away ;  and  the  first  work  demanding  his  attention 
was  to  supply  his  men  with  clothing  and  shoes. 
They  had  made  the  march  from  Savannah,  a  dis- 
tance of  430  miles  in  seven  weeks,  in  the  winter 
season,  through  mud  and  water,  and  in  spite  of 
every  other  known  obstacle. 

Among  the  pleasant  reminiscences  of  the  time 
is  an  incident  related, — after  twenty-two  years, 
by  one  of  Uncle  Sam's  former  young  naval  offi- 
cers. It  is  a  story  of  Union  War  Songs,  and 
Confederate  Officers ;  and  his  own  words  cannot 
be  improved  upon. 

"A  day  or  two  after  General  Lee's  surrender  in 
April,  1865,  I  left  our  ship  at  'Dutch  Gap'  in  the 
James  River,  for  a  run  up  to  Richmond,  where  I 
was  joined  by  the  ship's  surgeon,  the  paymaster, 
and  one  of  the  junior  officers.  Dinner  being 
over,  the  doctor,  who  was  a  fine  player,  opened 
the  piano  saying,  'Boys,  we've  got  our  old  quar- 
tette here,  let's  have  a  sing.'     As  the  house  op- 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     193 

posite  was  occupied  by  paroled  Confederate  offi- 
cers, no  patriotic  songs  were  sung.  Soon  the 
lady  of  the  house  handed  me  this  note,  'Compli- 
ments of  General and  Staff.  Will  the  gen- 
tlemen kindly  allow  us  to  come  over  and  hear 
them  sing?'  Of  course  we  consented,  and  pres- 
ently they  came.  In  the  general,  I  instantly 
recognized  the  face  and  figure  of  one  who  stood 
second  only  to  Lee  or  Jackson,  in  the  whole  Con- 
federacy. Introductions,  and  the  usual  inter- 
change of  civilities  over,  we  sang  glees  and  col- 
lege songs  for  them,  until  at  last  the  general  said, 
'Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  you  sing  delightfully,  but 
what  we  want  to  hear,  is  your  army  songs.' 

"Then  we  gave  them  the  army  songs  with  unc- 
tion;— the  'Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,'  'John 
Brown's  Body,'  'We're  Coming,  Father  Abra- 
ham,' 'Tramp,  Tramp,  Tramp,  the  Boys  Are 
Marching,' — through  the  whole  catalogue,  up  to 
the  'Star  Spangled  Banner,'  to  which  many  a  foot 
beat  time,  as  if  it  had  never  stepped  to  any  but 
the  'Music  of  the  Union'; — and  we  closed  our 
concert  with,  'Rally  Round  the  Flag,  Boys.' 

"When  the  applause  had  subsided,  a  tall,  fine 
looking  fellow  in  a  major's  uniform  exclaimed, 
'Gentlemen,  if  we'd  had  your  songs,  we'd  have 
licked  you  out  of  your  boots !     Who  couldn't  have 


194        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

marched  or  fought  with  such  songs  as  these?' 
Then,  turning  to  the  general,  he  said,  'I  shall 
never  forget  the  first  time  I  heard,  ''Rally  Round 
the  Flag."  Twas  a  nasty  night  during  the 
"Seven  Days'  Fight,"  and  if  I  remember  rightly, 
it  was  raining.  I  was  on  picket,  when  just  be- 
fore "taps,"  some  fellow  on  the  other  side  struck 
up  that  song,  and  still  others  joined  in  the  chorus, 
until  it  seemed  to  me  the  whole  Yankee  army  was 

singing.     Tom  B ,  who  was  with  me,  sang 

out,  "Good  heavens.  Cap.,  what  are  those  fellows 
made  of,  anyway?  Here  we've  licked  'em  six 
days  running,  and  now,  on  the  eve  of  the  seventh, 
— they're  singing  'Rally  Round  the  Flag.'  " 

"  T  am  not  naturally  superstitious,  but  I  tell 
you  that  song  sounded  to  me  like  the  "knell  of 
doom"  and  my  heart  went  right  down  into  my 
boots.  And  though  Fve  tried  to  do  my  duty — it 
has  been  an  up-hill  fight  with  me — ever  since  that 
night.' 

"The  little  company  of  Union  singers  and  Con- 
federate auditors,  after  a  pleasant  and  interesting 
interchange  of  stories  of  army  experiences,  then 
separated;  and  as  the  General  shook  hands,  at 
parting,  he  said  to  me,  'Well,  the  time  may  come, 
when  we  can  all  sing  the  "Star-Spangled  Banner" 
again.'  And  we  of  a  second  generation,  have 
witnessed  this  patriotic  wish  come  true." 


MARCHING  THROUGH  GEORGIA     195 

Also,  on  May  17th,  1918,  Memorial  ceremonies 
for  the  Confederate  dead  were  held  at  historic 
old  St.  John's  Church,  at  Hampton.  Honoring 
the  memory  of  Confederate  veterans  gone  to  rest, 
were  men  in  faded  blue  uniforms,  as  well  as  men 
in  equally  faded  gray; — while  below  them,  in 
their  trim  khaki,  stood  the  firing  squad  from 
Langley  Field.  These  were  the  men  of  that  new 
army  in  whose  ranks  were  the  sons  of  both  North 
and  South.  And  it  is  related  that  ''at  the  end  of 
the  program  their  voices  joined  in  'America,'  that 
great,  common  medium  for  the  blue,  the  gray,  and 
the  khaki." 


OCCASIONAL  SONGS 


WE'RE  TENTING  TO-NIGHT 

Walter  Kittredge. 

We're  tenting  to-night  on  the  old  camp  ground,  give  us  a  song  to 

cheer 
Our  weary  hearts,  a  song  of  home,  and  friends  we  love  so  dear. 

We've  been  tenting  to-night  on  the  old  camp  ground,  thinking 

of  days  gone  by, 
Of  the  loved  ones  at  home  that  gave  us  the  hand,  and  the  tear 

that  said  "good-bye!" 

We  are  tired  of  war  on  the  old  camp  ground,  many  are  dead 

and  gone, 
Of   the   brave   and   true  who've   left   their   homes,   others   been 
wounded  long. 

We've  been  fighting  to-day  on  the  old  camp  ground,  many  are 

lying  near; 
Some  are  dead  and  some  are  dying,  many  are  in  tears. 

CHORUS 

Many  are  the  hearts  that  are  weary  to-night,  wishing  for  the 

war  to  cease; 
Many  are  the  hearts  looking  for  the  right,  to  see  the  dawn  of 

peace. 
Tenting    to-night,    tenting    to-night,    tenting    on   the    old    camp 

ground. 

Chorus  for  lasi  verse: 
Dying  to-night,  dying  to-night,  dying  on  the  old  camp  ground. 


OCCASIONAL  SONGS 

It  is  estimated  that  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
copies  have  been  sold  of  ''Tenting  on  the  Old 
Camp  Ground."  An  inspired  song,  we  may  call 
it;  for  both  words  and  music  were  both  written 
in  a  few  moments,  by  Walter  Kittredge,  while 
preparing  to  go  to  the  front,  when  he  was  drafted, 
in  1862. 

A  New  Hampshire  boy,  born  at  Merrimac, 
Hillsboro  County,  October  8th,  1834,  he  showed 
a  strong  love  of  music,  at  an  early  age.  But  his 
father  was  a  farmer;  and  as  Walter  was  the 
tenth  one  of  the  eleven  children,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  understand  why  the  child  never  had  a  music 
teacher ;  for  he  had  made  the  fatal  mistake  of  not 
"marrying  rich  parents"  as  a  little  girl  neighbor 
puts  it. 

However,  music,  like  murder,  ''will  out."  His- 
tory does  not  relate  where  the  lad  managed  to 
pick  up  his  knowledge  of  singing;  but  he  gradu- 
ated from  the  Merrimac  Institute,  at  seventeen,  in 
185 1.  The  very  next  year,  1852,  the  plucky 
youngster  began  to  give  ballad  concerts,  by  him- 
self. 

199 


200        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Four  years  later,  in  1856,  he  gave  concerts  in 
company  with  Josiah  Hutchinson,  of  the  well- 
known  Hutchinson  family  of  singers.  After 
that  he  began  to  be  mentioned  as  a  prolific  song 
composer,  writing  not  only  the  words,  but  also 
the  music,  of  many  lyrics;  besides  this,  he  was 
giving  concerts,  in  which  he  sang  his  own  songs, 
as  well  as  that  of  other  composers. 

In  1 86 1  (he  was  then  twenty-seven)  he  mar- 
ried Annie  E.  Fairfield,  of  New  Boston,  N.  H. 
In  that  first  year  of  the  Civil  War,  he  published  a 
small,  original,  ^'Union  Song  Book." 

He  was  drafted  in  1862,  and  it  was  then  that 
the  song  "Tenting  on  the  Old  Camp  Ground" 
came  to  him,  as  if  by  magic.  Yet  at  first,  he  was 
not  able  to  find  a  publisher  for  it.  Nevertheless, 
he  made  it  so  popular  by  his  own  singing  of  it, 
that,  in  a  short  time,  a  publisher  employed  some 
one  else  to  write  a  song  with  a  similar  title.  For- 
tunately, Oliver  Ditson  &  Company  soon  after- 
ward brought  out  the  original.  Of  his  many 
other  songs,  special  mention  is  made  of  ''No 
Night,"  ''Golden  Streets,"  "Scatter  the  Flowers 
Over  the  Gray  and  the  Blue,"  "Sing  the  Old  War 
Songs  Again."  But  none  of  the  others  have  sur- 
vived the  changing  years,  like  "Tenting  on  the 
Old  Camp  Ground"  has  done. 


OCCASIONAL  SONGS  201 

The  love  of  the  soil  must  have  lived  on,  in  the 
heart  of  the  one-time  country  lad;  for  as  late  as 
1903,  we  hear  of  Mr.  Kittredge  being  engaged  in 
farming,  at  Reed's  Ferry,  N.  H. 

In  1905,  he  died;  after  rounding  out  his  three 
score  years  and  ten,  with  an  additional  year  as 
recompense  for  giving  us  a  sincere,  sympathetic 
ballad,  which  custom  does  not  stale.  For  it  is 
as  touching  today,  as  when  it  was  written,  in 
1862. 

Mr.  George  Root  had  the  distinction  of  having 
written  not  one  song,  but  three,  which  have  had 
universal  appeal.  And  while  the  greatest  of 
these  is  undoubtedly  his  "Battle  Cry  of  Free- 
dom," their  trainers  notice  that  the  old  songs 
seem  to  be  coming  more  and  more  into  favor  with 
our  troops,  and  the  boys  have  a  special  fondness 
for  ''Tramp,  Tramp,  Tramp";  though  they  often 
substitute  other  words. 

Of  late,  colored  troops  have  taken  America's 
folk  songs  with  them,  to  Europe.  According  to 
the  war  correspondents,  the  negro  barracks  at 
night,  were  resonant  with  music.  Nothing  seems 
to  mar  the  eternal  non-worrying  attitude  of  the 
colored  man.  It  matters  not  whether  he  is  in  the 
overalls  of  the  stevedore,  or  the  olive  drab  of  the 
fighter,  the  American  negro  sings  just  as  he  does 


202        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

in  the  cotton  fields  of  the  sunny  Southland. 
Other  survivors  of  the  fighting  say  that  the  negro 
troops  did  their  share,  along  with  the  white  and 
the  red  warriors,  to  keep  America  unchained. 
And  that  the  terrors  of  shrapnel,  gas,  and  high 
explosives, — the  grim  life  of  the  trench,  were 
made  bearable  by  the  unfailing  good  nature  of 
the  negro  soldiers.  It  seems,  that  when  permis- 
sible, they  organized  their  quartets,  and  sang 
plantation  melodies.  One  of  their  number,  a 
wounded  negro  from  South  Carolina,  has  since 
told  the  story  of  how  a  quartet  harmonized  on 
"Massa's  in  de  Cold,  Cold  Ground,"  and  when 
the  singing  was  over,  they  said  in  unison,  ''And 
we  all's  gw^ine  be  with  him  to-night."  For  they 
were  awaiting  orders  to  go  over  the  top  at  the 
time. 

Our  boys  in  khaki  are  not  embarrassed  with 
the  inborn  British  reticence  as  to  showing  their 
emotions.  The  spirit  of  song  which  is  being  so 
carefully  fostered  in  our  armies  has  a  tendency  to 
consolidate  their  ranks  by  creating  a  desire  to 
sing  on  all  possible  occasions ;  and  to  pour  forth  in 
song  even  the  deepest  emotions  that  are  implanted 
within  their  natures. 

Mr.  Root's  verses  voice  the  lament  of  the  cap- 
tive soldier  who  sits  helpless,  in  his  ''prison  cell," 


OCCASIONAL  SONGS  203 

and  hears  in  imagination,  the  measured  tread  of 
his  marching  comrades.  The  simple  pathos  of 
this  ballad  solaced  thousands  of  Union  men  in  the 
Southern  prison-pens. 

A  current  writer  points  out  that  the  history  of 
the  four  years  of  the  Civil  War,  with  its  high 
hopes,  its  bitter  disappointments,  and  its  renewed 
determination  can  be  distinctly  traced  in  the 
varying  themes  of  its  songs.  Before  we  came 
by  such  desperately  earnest  ballads  as  ''Rally 
Round  the  Flag,  Boys !"  the  struggle  had  grown 
to  be  a  deadly  earnest  one.  And  the  great  losses 
of  the  North  were  necessary  to  bring  into  being, 
such  a  song  as  "Tramp,  Tramp,  Tramp." 

Across  the  water,  this  tune  is  almost  better 
known  as  "God  Save  Ireland" ;  and  its  great  pop- 
ularity should  alone  authorize  the  composer  to 
rank  among  the  makers  of  vital  national  music. 

The  third  song  of  Mr.  Root's  trio,  "Just  Before 
the  Battle,  Mother,"  is  one  of  those  unaffected, 
pathetic  melodies  which  exert  a  tremendous  influ- 
ence by  suggesting  thoughts  of  Home,  to  the 
heavy  hearts  of  weary  men  who  have  girded  on 
the  sword,  and  shouldered  the  musket,  at  their 
country's  call. 

Among  the  purely  sentimental  songs  of  the 
Civil    War,     "The    Years    Creep    Slowly    by, 


204        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Lorena,"  had  wonderful  vogue,  although  it  had 
been  written  some  years  before  the  conflict  began. 
There  were  many  other  old  favorites.  "Annie 
Laurie"  will  always  be  popular;  and  "The  Girl 
I  Left  Behind  Me.''  "Massa's  in  the  Cold,  Cold 
Ground''  divides  the  honors,  with  "The  Old  Folks 
at  Home." 


THE  SPANISH-AMERICAN  WAR  SONGS 


WHEN  JOHNNY  COMES  MARCHING  HOME 

Louis  Lambert. 

When  Johnny  comes  marching  home  again, 

Hurrah,  hurrah! 
We'll  give  him  a  hearty  welcome  then, 

Hurrah,  hurrah ! 
The  men  will  cheer,  the  boys  will  shout, 
The  ladies,  they  will  all  turn  out, 
And  we'll  all  feel  gay,  when  Johnny  comes  marching  home. 

The  old  church  bell  will  peal  with  joy, 

Hurrah,  hurrah! 
To  welcome  home  our  darling  boy, 

Hurrah,  hurrah! 
The  village  lads  and  lassies  say. 
With  roses  they  will  strew  the  way, 
And  we'll  all  feel  gay,  when  Johnny  comes  marching  home. 

Get  ready  for  the  Jubilee, 

Hurrah,  hurrah! 
We'll  give  the  hero  three  times  three; 

Hurrah,  hurrah! 
The  laurel  wreath  is  ready  now 
To  place  upon  his  loyal  brow; 
And  we'll  all  feel  gay,  when  Johnny  comes  marching  home. 


THE  SPANISH-AMERICAN  WAR  SONGS 

This  vital  difference  is  dwelt  upon,  by  one  who 
was  familiar  with  them  all;  the  songs  of  the 
Spanish- American  War  were  so  much  more  dole- 
ful than  are  those  of  today;  one  of  the  prime 
favorites  being,  ^^Good-bye,  Dolly  Gray,"  with 
the  sorrowful  chorus, 

"Good-bye,  Dolly,  I  must  leave  you, 
Tho'  it  breaks  my  heart  to  go; 
Something  tells  me  I  am  needed. 
At  the  front,  to  fight  the  foe. 
See  the  soldier  boys  are  marching, 
And  I  can  no  longer  stay. 
Hark !     I  hear  the  bugle  calling, 
Good-bye,  Dolly  Gray." 

Th^re  was  also  a  very  harrowing  one,  known  as 
''Just  Break  the  News  to  Mother";  and  while 
every  one  sang  that  piteous  song,  my  informant 
recalls  that  when  the  boys  of  the  first  draft  were 
going  out,  through  the  Grand  Central  Station, 
and  one  of  them  started  this  particular  ballad, 
it  proved  too  much  for  the  nerves  of  the  rest  of 
the  youngsters.  The  others  had  been  singing  al- 
most everything  they  knew,  but  instantly  balked 

207 


2o8       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

at  this  number  on  their  programme,  and  shouted 
him  down,  in  a  moment.  Special  mention  is 
made  of  that  other  melancholy  ditty  of  the  period, 
''On  the  Banks  of  the  Wabash,  Far  Away."  The 
refrain  of  this  song  possessed  the  doubtful  charm 
of  being  ''able  to  be  pulled  out  into  a  vast,  engulf- 
ing howl.''  This  probably  added  to  the  fascina- 
tion, in  some  unaccountable  way. 

"Oh,  the  moonlight's  fair  tonight  along  the  Wabash, 
From  the  fields  there  comes  the  breath  of  new-mown 

hay. 
Thro'  the  sycamores  the  candle  lights  are  gleaming, 
On  the  banks  of  the  Wabash,  far  away." 

"A  Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Town,  To-night,''  by 
Joe  Haydon,  seems  to  have  possessed  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  one  really  gay  song  of  the  time. 
The  witchery  of  this  tune  was  such,  that  during 
our  brief  war  with  Spain,  the  Spaniards  in  Cuba 
were  quite  convinced  that  our  National  Anthem 
was  named  "There'll  be  a  Hot  Time  in  the  Old 
Town  To-night."  At  all  events,  the  frolicsome 
tones  of  this  unpretentious  popular  song  are  the 
most  intimately  associated  of  any,  with  the  al- 
ready dimming  recollections  of  that  "whirlwind 
campaign." 

Some  time  ago,  the  statement  occurred  in  one 
of  our  newspapers,  that  during  the  Battle  of  San 


SPANISH-AMERICAN  WAR  SONGS     209 

Juan  Hill,  the  American  soldiers  fought  their 
way  to  victory  on  the  tune  ^'There'll  Be  a  Hot 
Time  in  the  Old  Town  To-night."  But  as  Colonel 
Roosevelt  said  he  never  heard  the  men  sing  in 
battle,  although  they  often  sang  in  camp,  this 
little  incident  appears  to  be  entirely  fictitious.  Yet 
the  catchy,  don't-care  tune  carried  an  irresistible 
attraction  for  our  fighting  lads  of  1898. 

The  title  of  this  melody,  and  that  of  the  "Star- 
Spangled  Banner"  were  a  source  of  never-ending 
astonishment  to  the  newspapers  of  France  and 
Germany,  which  were  none  too  cordial,  at  the 
time.  A  recent  magazine  writer  describes  with 
glee  ''the  sedate  gravity  with  which  a  leading  Pa- 
risian journal  announced  the  entry  of  the  Ameri- 
can troops,  into  Manila,  after  the  surrender  of  the 
Filipino  capitol,  and  mentions  the  regimental 
bands  as  playing  the  two  national  hymns  of  the 
United  States,  'La  banniere  remplie  d'etoiles'  and 
Tl  fera  chaud  dans  la  vieille  ville  ce  soir.'  " 

The  discomforts  of  that  Spanish-American 
War  may  have  helped  to  confirm  Major-General 
Leonard  Wood  in  his  opinion,  that  it  is  as  essen- 
tial for  a  soldier  to  know  how  to  sing,  as  that  he 
should  carry  a  rifle  and  know  how  to  use  it. 

For  the  cheery  sprightliness  of  the  favorite 
"welcoming  back"  song  of  those  days,  we  are  in- 


2IO        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

debted  to  Pat  Gilmore;  although,  ''When  Johnny 
Comes  Marching  Home"  was  a  revival,  from 
Civil  War  times ;  and  was  published,  by  Mr.  Gil- 
more,  under  the  pseudonym  of  Louis  Lambert. 

Patrick  Sarsfield  Gilmore  is  noted  as  the  con- 
ductor of  the  two  monstrous  music  festivals, 
called  the  Peace  Jubilees,  held  in  Boston,  in  1869 
and  1872;  and  he  is  Hsted  as  a  celebrated  Ameri- 
can bandmaster.  But  he  was  born  in  Ireland, 
near  Dublin,  on  Christmas  Day  of  1829.  His 
first  musical  experience  was  with  the  town  band 
of  Athlone.  But  at  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  left 
his  native  place,  to  go  to  Canada,  with  an  English 
band.  However,  he  did  not  stay  in  Canada ;  for 
he  crossed  the  boundary  into  the  United  States, 
almost  immediately  after  his  arrival  on  this  side 
of  the  water,  and  settled  in  Salem,  Mass.,  which, 
— after  Plymouth, — is  the  oldest  town  of  New 
England.  Here,  the  young  man  became  con- 
ductor of  a  military  band. 

When  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  he  went  fre- 
quently, with  his  band,  to  Fort  Warren,  one  of 
the  defenses  of  Boston;  and  he  is  said  to  have 
been  greatly  interested  in  harmonizing,  for  his 
band,  the  melody  of  ''John  Brown's  Body,"  the 
words  of  which  were  composed  there,  among 
the  soldiers  who  were  busy  repairing  the  old 
fort. 


SPANISH-AMERICAN  WAR  SONGS     211 

While  Mr.  Gilmore  was  connected  with  mili- 
tary music,  both  before  and  after  the  great  Jubi- 
lees, it  was  those  two  festivals,  held  on  Boston 
Common,  which  gained  an  international  reputa- 
tion for  him.  In  1869,  the  orchestra  consisted  of 
a  thousand  pieces,  and  the  chorus  of  ten  thousand 
voices;  which  number  was  doubled,  in  1872. 
Quite  an  advance  upon  the  town  band  of  Athlone ! 

Settling  in  New  York,  in  1874,  Mr.  Gilmore 
and  his  band  began  a  series  of  concert  tours 
which  were  as  popular,  as  they  were  successful. 
The  tours  covered  Canada,  Great  Britain,  and 
several  European  cities  of  importance.  He  was 
the  predecessor,  in  this  branch  of  musical  organi- 
zation, of  Lieutenant  John  Philip  Sousa,  who  has 
played  ''The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  around  the 
world. 

Mr.  Gilmore  died  at  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  Septem- 
ber 24,  1892;  but  a  striking  incident  in  connec- 
tion with  his  Civil  War  song  is  related  by  Mr. 
Edward  Marshall,  who  graphically  depicts  the 
landing,  at  Montauk  Point,  Long  Island,  of  six 
troops  of  the  famous  Rough  Riders,  with  their 
gallant  Colonel ;  together  with  four  troops  of  the 
Third  Cavalry,  with  General  Joseph  Wheeler, 
and  his  son.  Lieutenant  Joseph  Wheeler,  Jr. 

On  August  7th,  the  troops  had  marched  from 


212        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

El  Caney  to  Santiago;  where  they  boarded  the 
transport  Miami,  and  returned  to  the  United 
States.  It  was  about  noon  of  August  15,  1898, 
when  they  landed  at  Montauk  Point,  and  went 
into  the  detention  camp. 

Mr.  Marshall  tells  of  the  wild  cheers  from 
their  waiting  comrades,  on  shore,  which  marked 
the  approach  of  the  Miami  toward  the  dock. 
"The  visiting,  gull-like  yachts  drew  in  more 
close-ly.  The  hustling  little  launches  sputtered 
nearer  than  they  had  been  permitted  to  go  be- 
fore. A  band  struck  up  'When  Johnny  Comes 
Marching  Home.'  The  cheering  became  more 
general  as  the  cables  from  the  great  steamer  were 
made  fast  to  the  stanchions  on  the  pier;  and 
when  the  gangplank  was  finally  put  down, — 
everyone  was  cheering/' 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 


BRITISH 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

BRITISH 

Each  one  of  the  Allies  had  its  own  favorite 
songs,  which  the  soldiers  sang,  as  they  trudged 
along  the  wearisome  way  of  War.  In  the  early 
days  of  the  mighty  conflict,  when  the  English 
troops  marched  through  London,  to  the  front, 
they  sang  a  version  of  an  American  Civil  War 
Soni 


^g- 


*'We  are  coming,  Marshall  Kitchener, 
Five  hundred  thousand  strong." 

But  once  landed  on  foreign  shores,  these  troops 
changed  thei^  tune  for  the  song  ^'It's  a  Long, 
Long  Way  to  Tipperary" ;  and  marched  to  their 
heroes'  graves,  to  the  notes  of  that  singular  new 
battle  ode.  Other  British  soldiers  followed 
them,  and  went  intrepidly,  to  face  terrific  odds, 
to  the  tones  of  the  same  careless  refrain.  Still 
later  on,  in  one  of  the  battles  of  the  western  front 
we  hear  of  the  loyal  sons  of  Erin  gleefully  sing- 
ing, *'It's  a  Long,  Long  Way  to  Tipperary,"  as 
they  drove  the  Huns  before  them. 

215 


2i6        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

What  was  there,  either  in  the  verses,  or  in  the 
tune,  of  "Tipperary,''  to  justify  its  sudden  vogue 
in  this  greatest  of  wars  ?  For  more  than  a  year, 
it  was  sung,  played,  and  whistled  all  over  the 
world.  Never  intended  for  a  war  song,  it  had 
been  sung  casually,  in  music  halls  and  elsewhere, 
for  quite  twelve  months  before  the  outbreak  of 
hostilities.  Many  have  wished  it  could  have  been 
Elgar's  'Tand  of  Hope  and  Glory"  that  stimu- 
lated the  forces.  But  not  Tommy  Atkins. 
'Tipperary''  was  his  song;  and  that  settled  the 
matter. 

Possibly  the  real  reason  it  became  the  idolized, 
and  universally  sung  and  whistled  tune  of 
Tommy,  may  be  sought  in  the  fact  that  the  British 
reserve  so  far  exceeds  that  of  our  own,  and  that 
of  the  French,  when  it  comes  to  expressing  patri- 
otic feeling,  in  any  form  whatever,  that  the  Eng- 
lishman has  a  haunting  dread  of  showing  his 
deeper  emotions;  and  he  keeps  all  such  things 
closely  hidden;  with  the  result  that  the  songs  he 
sings  on  the  battle-field  are  seemingly  light- 
hearted  and  superficial  in  meaning.  We  are  told, 
his  inferior  taste  in  music  really  disgusted  the 
foe, — at  the  beginning  of  the  fray. 

Written  so  recently,  it  is  strange  there  should 
be  any  question  as  to  its  authorship.     Some  of 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     217 

the  standard  magazines  go  as  far  as  to  claim 
the  song  was  made  in  U.  S.  A.,  written  about 
191 1,  at  a  house  in  Douglas  Manor,  L.  I.,  finished 
early  in  1912.  This  account  asserts  it  was  orig- 
inally intended  for  a  little  vaudeville  skit,  com- 
posed by  Harry  Williams.  Another  account, 
which  appears  more  credible,  is  to  the  effect  that 
the  song  was  written  in  191 1,  by  Jack  Judge,  a 
singer  of  the  English  music  halls,  and  of  pure 
Irish  blood.  This  narrative  mentions  a  friend, 
Mr.  Harry  Williams,  who  assisted  him;  but  in- 
sists the  words  and  music  are  virtually  Mr. 
Judge's  own.  The  composer  carried  his  manu- 
script from  one  publisher  to  another;  but  it  met 
with  unbroken  rejection,  until,  in  1912,  it  came 
into  the  hands  of  the  London  house  of  B.  Feld- 
man  &  Co.  Mr.  Bert  Feldman  took  a  fancy  to 
the  piece,  and  was  willing  to  publish  it,  provided 
Mr.  Judge  agreed  to  certain  minor  changes.  One 
alteration  he  suggested  was  the  repetition  of  the 
word  "long,''  and  another  hint,  was  the  length- 
ening of  the  third  syllable  of  the  word  Tipperary, 
both  of  them  toward  the  end  of  the  chorus.  Mr. 
Judge  agreed  to  the  changes,  and  the  song  was 
published  as  it  had  been  written, — with  never  an 
idea  of  its  becoming,  two  years  later,  the  favorite 
marching  song  of  soldiers  in  a  great  war,  and 


2i8        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

widely  known,  wherever  English  is  said  or  sung. 

At  first  Mr.  Judge  was  bitterly  disappointed 
with  the  scanty  sale  of  his  work;  whereas  Mr. 
Feldman  never  lost  confidence  in  its  ultimate  suc- 
cess. And,  as  the  story  goes,  one  day  when  Mr. 
Judge  was  regretting  the  chilly  reception  it  had 
received  at  Edinburgh,  the  publisher  said  to  him, 
^'Take  my  word  for  it,  not  only  Edinburgh,  but 
all  the  world  will  one  day  ring  with  your  song." 

The  words  have  absolutely  nothing  to  do  with 
war;  they  merely  reflect  a  frolicsome,  heedless 
jollity,  tinged  with  a  certain  naive  wistfulness,  as 
an  Irishman  in  London  rather  plaintively  voices 
the  longing  for  his  beloved  Tipperary,  and  for 
''the  sweetest  girl"  he  knows.  Of  the  millions 
who  sing  the  chorus,  only  a  small  proportion  have 
anything  but  the  vaguest  idea  of  the  words,  and 
their  associated  tune.  One  is  tempted  to  second 
the  writer  who  says  of  it,  "The  charm  lies  in  the 
irresistible,  flowing  momentum  of  the  refrain. 
It  is  all  so  singable;  the  rhythm  of  its  phrases 
not  ending  before  it  leaves  off ;  and  its  range  only 
slightly  more  than  an  octave." 

'It's  a  long  way  to  Tipperary, 
It's  a  long  way  to  go. 
It's  a  long  way  to  Tipperary, 
To  the  sweetest  girl  I  know. 


€>    Underwood  &  Underwood 

INFANTRr  BAND    PLAYING  AT    HEADQUARTERS 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     219 

'*Good-by,  Piccadilly, 

Farewell,  Leicester  Square, 
It's  a  long,  long  way  to  Tipperary, 
But  my  heart's  right  there." 

A  war  correspondent  when  leaving  London, 
sends  this  word:  "The  last  sound  which  caught 
my  ear,  as  the  boat-train  pulled  out  of  Euston, 
was  not  the  sobbing  of  women  who  bade  sorrow- 
ful good-byes,  but  a  soldier-voice,  high  pitched, 
and  maybe  a  little  off  the  key,  but  valiantly  sing- 
ing, 

"  There's  a  silver  lining, 

Through  the  dark  cloud  shining; 
Turn  the  dark  cloud  inside  out, 
Till  the  boys  come  home.' " 

Many  felt  that  "Tipperary"  was  too  flippant  a 
song  for  soldiers  to  sing,  when  they  were  on  the 
eve  of  battle,  and  probable  sudden  death;  and 
these  find  a  welcome  substitute  in  its  rival,  "Till 
the  Boys  Come  Home,"  with  its  touching  chorus 
of  "Keep  the  home  fires  burning."  This  war 
song  of  England's  was  written  in  ten  minutes. 
The  composer  says  so ;  and  he  adds,  that  he  wrote 
it  at  the  request  of  his  mother,  "to  take  the  place," 
as  she  urged,  "of  this  Tipperary  tune,  which  has 
become  so  tiresome  through  months  of  iteration." 
The  song  has  been  described  as  a  compact  ballad. 


220        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

which  swings  along  in  easy  march  time,  through 
a  short  verse,  to  a  catchy  chorus,  which  is  simple 
enough  to  be  easily  memorized,  a  chorus  whose 
hymn-like  chords  disclose  the  early  training  of 
the  composer,  who  was  first  solo  boy  in  Magdalen 
College,  Oxford,  for  five  years,  having  won  a 
scholarship  there  at  the  age  of  nine. 

Nature  was  prodigal  of  her  gifts  to  this  won- 
der-child, who  has  been  singing  publicly,  since  he 
was  six  years  old.  He  inherits  his  remarkable 
talent  largely  from  his  mother,  Clara  Novello 
Davies,  daughter  of  Vincent  Novello,  composer, 
organist,  and  pianist. 

Ivor  Novello's  own  account  of  the  writing  of 
his  best-known  lyric  would  indicate  that  it  was 
the  result  either  of  inspiration,  or  of  unconscious 
cerebration, — perchance  a  little  of  both. 

The  sentence,  ''Keep  the  home  fires  burning," 
had  run  through  the  composer's  brain  for  some 
months,  in  a  tantalizing  way.  And  when  he  set 
about  writing  the  patriotic  song  for  his  mother, 
he  fashioned  a  tune  to  fit  this  line.  Having  com- 
pleted the  melody,  he  called  up  Mrs.  Lena  Guil- 
bert  Ford,  on  the  telephone,  told  her  his  plan,  and 
she  is  said  to  have  built  the  rest  of  the  words 
around  the  music,  and  that  first  line,  in  another 
ten  minutes ;  the  entire  construction  of  this  rapid- 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     221 

fire  song  having  consumed  less  than  half  an 
hour's  time  all  told;  with  the  happy  result  of  an 
appealing  combination  of  melody,  sentiment,  and 
admonishment  to  the  home-folks  in  England,  to 
show  a  patriotic  spirit  of  endurance,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  their  loved  ones. 

Strange  as  it  seems,  several  publishers  refused 
the  song.  But  luckily  the  youthful  composer 
neither  lost  faith  in  it,  nor  changed  it.  Finally 
it  was  accepted,  and  published  about  November, 
191 5.  Since  then,  it  has  been  sung  in  every  camp 
in  the  war  zone,  published  in  six  languages,  and 
has  gone  with  the  soldiers  into  the  trenches,  much 
as  'Tipperary"  did;  but  it  possessed  the  merit  of 
lacking  flippancy. 

As  a  child,  Ivor  Novello's  greatest  ambition 
had  been  to  write  songs  that  the  street  organs 
would  play;  and  few  of  us  live  to  see  our  ideals 
so  speedily  or  so  abundantly  realized.  Not  long 
after  his  song  was  placed  on  sale,  he  went  to  the 
trenches  with  a  concert-giving  party,  where  the 
ballad  was  sung  over  four  hundred  times  in 
twenty-five  days.  As  it  was  so  delightfully 
simple,  the  boys  learned  it  at  once. 

On  his  return  trip  from  the  front,  three  thou- 
sand soldiers  passed  him  on  their  way  to  the 
trenches,  and  the  scenes  he  had  just  quitted. 


222        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

Fresh  from  London,  they  were  trudging  bravely 
along,  singing  his  song,  as  they  marched.  It  is 
not  likely  that  the  memory  of  the  spectacle  will 
ever  fade  from  the  mind  of  the  composer;  for 
events  proved  that  at  least  two-thirds  of  those 
lads  would  never  see  their  home  fires  again. 

In  1 91 6,  when  Ivor  Novello  was  twenty  years 
of  age,  he  wrote  from  London,  that  he  had  just 
been  made  a  Flight  Lieutenant  in  the  Royal  Air 
Service.  Incidentally,  he  was  giving  three  con- 
certs a  month,  in  halls  and  hospitals;  also  writ- 
ing musical  comedies  for  the  Gaiety  Theatre. 

His  fellow  worker  in  preparing  the  now 
famous  song  did  not  fare  so  happily  as  he.  Mrs. 
Ford,  unfortunately,  was  killed,  in  191 8,  during 
one  of  those  cruel  air-raids  on  London.  We 
might  perhaps  call  the  song  rather  an  interna- 
tional product;  as  this  lady  was  an  American, 
who  formerly  lived  in  Elmira,  New  York. 

"Keep  the  home  fires  burning, 
While  your  hearts  are  yearning, 
Though  your  lads  are  far  away, 
They  dream  of  home. 
There's  a  silver  lining. 
Through  the  dark  cloud  shining, 
Turn  the  dark  cloud  inside  out, 
Till  the  boys  come  home." 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

AMERICAN 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

AMERICAN 

Returning  from  the  front  in  1918,  one  of  our 
well-known  jurists  pictured  the  American  sol- 
diers as  always  singing,  and  marching  along  as 
if  they  were  going  to  a  picnic.  There  was  such 
a  curious  discrepancy  between  what  our  fighting 
men  were  most  intent  upon  accomplishing,  and 
what  they  really  enjoyed  singing  about.  For, 
owing  to  a  singular  twist  of  human  nature,  the 
very  solemnity  of  the  times  has  rendered  the  non- 
sense song  triumphant,  and  given  rise  to  a  very 
puzzled  ^'Why?'' 

Many  have  essayed  to  solve  the  riddle;  but  so 

far,  the  most  rational  answer  points  out  that 

Civilization,  through  centuries  of  evolution,  has 

done  away  with  the  blood-lust  of  the  savage  early 

centuries;  and  has  rendered  the  mere  idea  of 

killing  so  abhorrent  to  the  normal,  wholesome 

men  who  risk  their  lives,  for  the  sake  of  all  those 

things  Civilization  implies,  that  they  are  only  too 

glad  to  divert  their  minds  from  their  grim  task, 

225 


226        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

whenever  opportunity  permits.  As  a  soldier 
with  the  American  Army  in  France  confesses,  "A 
song  to  sing  is  a  great  thing.  It  boosts  the  spirit 
and  the  morale,  and  helps  a  man  forget  the  things 
he  doesn't  like.  The  fellows  in  the  army  who 
can't  sing,  always  whistle."  In  line  with  this, 
comes  the  statement  that  '^Grin  and  Bear  It," 
with  the  accent  on  the  "grin,"  has  been  one  of  the 
first  commandments  of  the  American  soldier  in 
France. 

This  must  be  the  underlying  reason  for  the 
many  nonsense  songs,  or  as  they  have  been  more 
aptly  christened,  "songs  of  soldier  philosophy." 
On  the  border  line,  comes  the  famous  "Smile" 
song,  by  George  Asaf.  Anything  but  nonsense, 
it  is  yet  the  quintessence  of  our  soldier  logic. 

*Tack  up  your  troubles  in  your  old  kit  bag, 

And  smile,  smile,  smile ; 
While  there's  a  lucifer  to  light  your  fag, 

Smile  boys,  that's  the  style! 
What's  the  use  of  worrying,  it  never  was 

Worth  while !     So — 
Pack  up  your  troubles  in  your  old  kit  bag, 

And  smile,  smile,  smile!'* 

And  as  Chaplain  Thomas  Tiplady  assures  us, 
in  "The  Soul  of  the  Soldier,"  "All  along  the 
western  front,  be  their  days  ever  so  clouded,  they 


^@ 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     227 

sing, — our  boys,  and  their  French  and  British  and 
Canuck  and  Anzac  brothers;  as  long  as  they 
breathe,  they  smile,  and  laugh,  and  sing." 

Chief  among  the  true  nonsense  songs  comes  the 
dearly  loved  stammering  song,  ''K-K-K-Katy''  by 
Geoffrey  O'Hara,  and  also  its  parody,  voicing  the 
lament  of  the  downcast  K.  P.  (Kitchen  Police). 

"K-K-K-Katy,  beautiful  Katy. 
You're  the  only  g-g-g-girl  that  I  adore, 
When  the  m-m-m-moon  shines  over  the  cow  shed, 
I'll  be  waiting  at  the  k-k-k-kitchen  door." 

Substitute, — 

"When  the  m-m-m-moon  shines,  over  the  mess  hall, 
I'll  be  mopping  up  the  k-k-k-kitchen  floor." 

Mr.  O'Hara  was  one  of  the  musical  experts 
who  were  sent  out  by  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment, to  record  and  to  present  the  fast-vanishing 
music  of  various  Indian  tribes.  During  the  war, 
he  was  one  of  those  army  song  leaders  to  whom 
so  much  credit  is  due.  As  a  specimen  of  their 
work,  the  composer  of  "K-K-K-Katy"  went  to 
Fort  Oglethorpe,  Georgia,  and  accomplished  mar- 
vels, in  that  huge  mobilization  camp.  In  the  be- 
ginning, it  is  said  that  he  did  not  even  have  a 
platform  to  stand  upon.  Being  resourceful,  it 
did  not  take  him  long  to  discover  a  lumber  pile; 


228        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

and  he  used  that,  as  a  dais,  until  the  carpenters 
took  it  away.  He  could  be  a  boy,  among  the 
boys;  always  ready  with  a  joke,  and  always  bring- 
ing music  up  at  precisely  the  right  moment.  He 
contends  that  every  company  is  full  of  talent,  of 
every  kind,  if  one  knows  how  to  dig  it  out. 

Later  on,  the  War  Department  Commission  on 
Training  Camp  Activities  placed  Mr.  O'Hara  at 
the  embarkation  port  of  Newport  News,  as  song 
leader  of  the  various  camps  of  the  district,  which 
included  Camp  Stuart,  Camp  Hill,  Camp  Mor- 
rison, the  aviators  at  Langley  Field,  the  colored 
men  of  the  big  stevedore  camp,  and  the  artillery 
school  at  Fortress  Monroe,  besides  going  out  oc- 
casionally to  teach  a  group  of  new  songs  to  the; 
men  stationed  aboard  the  big  ships  of  the  Atlantic 
fleet.  In  fact,  he  became  practically  the  ''song 
leader  of  Tidewater  Virginia." 

Soulful  persons  have  rather  regretted  that 
some  of  our  most  popular  songs  have  been  writ- 
ten by  comedians;  but  "Dixie"  was  another  case 
in  point;  and  today,  it  is  almost  as  great  a 
favorite  in  the  North,  as  it  is  in  the  South.  The 
soldiers  have  obstinately  refused  to  sing  the  stock 
martial  tunes  set  down  for  them,  and  have 
adopted  the  racy  music  hall  songs,  probably  be- 
cause they  so  often  say  a  pointed  thing  in  a  quick 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     229 

way.  This  accounts  in  a  measure,  for  the  won- 
derful vogue  of  such  songs  as  '^Over  There," 
"Good-bye,  Broadway,"  and  Irving  Berlin's,  ''I 
Hate  to  Get  Up." 

Some  years  ago,  it  was  predicted  that  should 
our  soldiers  ever  be  engaged  in  war  again,  they 
would  probably  adopt  a  prevailing  tune  of  the 
day,  as  they  formerly  seized  upon  "A  Hot  Time 
in  the  Old  Town  To-night,"  and  as  the  English 
took  "Tipperary." 

Sure  enough,  when  those  8,000  American  lads 
were  advancing  to  the  front,  at  Chateau  Thierry, 
the  first  intimation  that  the  French  soldiers  had 
of  their  approach,  was  in  hearing  them  cheerily 
singing  *'The  Yanks  are  coming,  .  .  .  and  we're 
not  coming  back,  till  it's  over,  over  here."  And 
when  the  Marines  led,  on  that  crucial  July  day,  at 
Chateau  Thierry,  they  leaped  forward  toward  the 
enemy  lines,  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  lungs, 
'^Hail!  Hail!  The  Gang's  All  Here!"  Of  those 
8,000  Yankee  boys,  6,200  were  either  killed  or 
wounded.  But  thanks  to  the  gallant  work  of 
the  Marine  Brigade,  and  the  no  less  efficient  valor 
of  our  Regulars,  the  Hun  was  whipped  that  day. 
Although  Brigadier  General  Catlin,  who  led  the 
Sixth  Regiment  of  Marines,  as  Colonel,  says, 
"It  was  a  terrible  slaughter ;  the  mere  thought  of 


230       OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

such  wholesale  killing  is  enough  to  curdle 
Christian  blood."  Narrowly  as  he  escaped 
bleeding  to  death,  after  being  shot  down  by  a 
German  sniper,  General  Catlin  continued  to  di- 
rect a  large  part  of  the  engagement,  from  the 
bottom  of  the  trench  where  he  was  lying. 

It  was  the  singing  army  that  was  victorious  on 
this  frightful  day,  when  the  other  brave  Allies, 
spent  with  four  long  years  of  warfare  were  al- 
most afraid  to  sing,  for  fear  the  great  cause  of 
Humanity  was  lost.  And  because  it  struck  a 
national  note,  ''Over  There"  has  been  called  the 
great  song  of  the  great  war.  The  sentiment 
'We'll  be  over,  we're  coming  over,  and  we  won't 
come  back,  till  it's  over,  over  there,"  together  with 
the  swift  action  indicated,  and  the  blithe,  yet 
menacing  melody,  put  the  entire  situation  in  a 
nutshell,  from  the  American  point  of  view. 

Mr.  George  M.  Cohan,  born  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  1878,  at  Providence,  R.  L,  is  the  real  live 
nephew  of  his  Uncle  Sam,  depicted  in  one  of  his 
earlier  songs,  "The  Yankee  Doodle  Boy."  Al- 
though a  comparatively  young  man, — as  song- 
writer, actor,  manager,  and  playwright,  he  is  con- 
sidered, in  many  respects,  the  foremost  figure  of 
the  American  Theater.  His  methods  seem  to  be 
as  unique  as  his  success.     One  of  those  persons 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     231 

with  a  morbid  appetite  for  analysis,  says  that 
George  Cohan  took  parts  of  ''Johnny  get  your 
Gun,"  and  a  bugle  call;  and  after  blending  them 
with  a  few  other  strains  called  the  collection 
"Over  There/'  Well,  ''the  collection"  struck  a 
wonderfully  responsive  chord  in  the  hearts  of 
the  American  People. 

OVER  THERE 

"Johnny,  get  your  gun,  get  your  gun,  get  your  gun, 
Take  it  on  the  run,  on  the  run,  on  the  run. 
Hear  them  calling  you  and  me,  every  son  of  Liberty, 
Hurry  right  away,  no  delay,  go  to-day. 
Make  your  daddy  glad  to  have  had  such  a  lad. 
Tell  your  sweetheart  not  to  pine, 
To  be  proud  her  boy's  in  line. 

Chorus. 

''Over  there,  over  there, 
Send  the  word,  send  the  word,  over  there. 
That  the  Yanks  are  comifig,  the  Yanks  are  coming, 
The  drums  rum-tumming  everywhere. 
So  prepare,  say  a  prayer, 
Send  the  word,  send  the  word,  to  beware. 
We'll  be  over,  we're  coming  over. 
And  we  won't  come  back  till  it's  over,  over  there." 

The  soldiers  across  the  water,  sang  Zo  Elliott's 
"There's  a  Long,  Long  Trail,"  on  many  of  their 
marches.  It  was  written  shortly  before  the  war, 
for  a  fraternity  banquet,  while  Mr.  Elliott  was 


232        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

still  a  senior  at  Yale  College.  Like  'Tipperary/' 
it  was  never  meant  for  a  war  song,  but  the  tune 
became  immensely  popular  with  our  soldiers, — 
who  substituted  the  following  lines,  instead  of  the 
original  text,  and  added  the  vociferous  "WOW!" 
at  the  end. 

(Tune)   There's  a  Long,  Long  Trail. 
''There's  a  long,  long  trail  that's  winding 

Into  No-Man's  Land  in  France, 
Where  shrapnel  shells  are  bursting, 

And  where  we  must  advance. 
There'll  be  lots  of  drills  and  hiking, 

Before  our  dreams  come  true, 
But  some  day  we'll  show  the  Kaiser, 

What  machine-gun  boys  can  do. 

WOW!" 

The  commanding  officer  at  one  of  our  western 
camps  is  quoted  as  saying  that  it  is  better,  for  a 
long  hike,  to  have  the  men  singing,  than  to  rely 
upon  a  band,  to  help  the  sore  feet  and  heavy  pack. 
For  the  modern  soldier  is  in  reality  more  bur- 
dened by  his  equipment  than  the  mail-clad  knight 
of  yore.  Most  of  us  have  the  impression  that  the 
knight  carried  an  enormous  weight ;  yet  this  does 
not  seem  to  be  borne  out  by  the  actual  facts.  For 
the  heaviest  suit  of  armor  in  the  tower  of  London 
is  said  to  weigh  but  66  pounds,  w^hereas  the  Brit- 
ish soldier  of  today  carries  from  75  to  90  pounds. 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR     233 

Furthermore,  the  present  cavalry  horses,  while 
less  sturdy  than  the  old  battle  steeds,  carry  even 
more  weight  than  the  chargers  whose  riders  wore 
armor. 

A  Canadian  soldier,  invalided  home,  throws 
light  on  another  side  of  present-day  war  music. 
He  claims  that,  with  all  due  respect  to  the  pipes, 
the  drum,  and  the  fife, — the  official  music-makers, 
— nothing  can  rival  the  humble  gramophone,  the 
louder  the  better,  that  uplifts  its  intrepid  voice,  in 
a  dug-out  under  fire;  for  it  has  proved  such  a 
wondrous  source  of  comfort  to  the  soldier-boys, 
and  has  played  its  own  peculiar  part  in  helping 
to  win  the  war.  He  says  that  many  and  many  a 
company  headquarters,  lit  by  a  couple  of  candles 
glaring  in  bottle-necks — sub-let  to  countless  rats, 
and  in  ever-present  danger  of  flooding — was  yet 
cheered  and  brightened  by  the  ever-obliging 
music-box. 

Music  has  proved  of  inestimable  value,  among 
the  men  at  the  front.  As  pictured  by  a  recent 
writer,  ''Music,  when  men  are  going  into  a  charge, 
uplifts  the  heart,  and  makes  it  strong.  Music,  in 
the  intervals  between  actions,  back  of  the 
trenches,  and  in  the  billets,  uplifts  the  soul  of  the 
soldier,  acts  as  a  palliative  of  hardsh^'ps,  and  com- 
forts like  a  mother.'' 


234        OUR  NATIONAL  BALLADS 

There  is  not  the  sHghtest  doubt  that  Music, 
more  than  any  one  of  us  reaUze,  can  help  to  ma- 
terialize that  earnest,  all-inclusive  prayer  of 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes : 

"One  flag, — one  land, 
One  heart, — one  hand. 

One  Nation,  Evermore." 


THE  ENO 


